She pretended not to see him. She didn't need to notice him. After all, she was having an amazing time. John and Mary were married. Tom hadn't totally made a fool of himself (ok, maybe that one wasn't entirely true). And Sherlock's best man speech had gone surprisingly well.
Sherlock. Darn it. There I go again. Her eyes drifted towards him. He was neatly placing his violin back in its case. The smile that played about his lips betrayed a sadness she knew was there. Even his locks were drooping...
She whipped her head back to face Tom. Ugh, way to be obvious, Molly. She tried to focus on Tom, who was moving his body in the only way one could expect a gangly, self-obsessed man to do. That's ok. She wasn't really looking at him anyway. But shouldn't I want to? She tried focusing on the little things of the moment, to bury herself in the present. What it was her privilege to experience. The beat of the music...she didn't know the song, though. The way her skirt was swooshing playfully about her knees...but her legs were beginning to sweat and she had neglected to wear hose. This wasn't going well.
Tom. Focus on Tom.
She wouldn't admit it to herself, but she found it rather hard to look at him. Really hard, in fact. And quite frankly, the way he was contorting his body in the attempt to recreate the movement called "dancing" wouldn't have endeared him to anybody in that moment. Not even his fiancee.
Whoops. That's me.
He had been mostly stupid and awkward the whole day, and he was only improving his streak. But maybe, Molly thought, this was just him having a really good time.
"I haven't had this much fun dancing in so long, Molly!"
Molly smiled. Drat.
Shut up, Molly. Just focus.
Yes. Hair. She focused on his hair. That at least wasn't disappointing, even though it didn't curl as softly, as elegantly as...
It was too late. She was looking for him again. She had to re-adjust, though, because now he was in them middle of the dance floor talking to John and Mary. He seemed happier now. Why were they all smiling? What were they talking about? Why couldn't she know? Why couldn't she laugh with them? Had he always looked that handsome when he smiled?
She had gone too far. She tried to backpedal: Molly, stop it. These are just leftover emotions. You tried, and it didn't work. He's a pretentious jerk anyway, remember?
Just because it didn't work doesn't mean I have stopped loving him. It doesn't mean that it's not the most lovely thing that's ever happened to me.
She was already there. Her persevering nature implored her to steer back to the moment, to focus on the present and not be pulled back to his cheekbones and her heartbreak. But the lock had finally been broken on her honest soul, and she had to face the facts: she didn't want to marry Tom. Actually, she couldn't marry him. Come the moment, she would physically crumble in front of it. Everything was already crumbling, though, the fortified walls of her heart giving way to the truth:
I have to tell Tom I can't marry him.