“He was happy.” “He was grieving.” “So were you.” Jack didn’t answer. Because the worst part of it was that she wasn’t entirely wrong. Claire looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time Jack saw how deep the delusion went. Not a con artist’s confidence. Not greed, exactly. Something sadder. Something far more broken.
“You looked at me,” she said quietly, “like I was a ghost you wanted to touch.” Jack said nothing. “You let me in,” she said. “You knew I was different and you still let me in.” “Because I thought you were Sarah.” Claire’s face changed at that. Not guilt. Something more like resentment. “She’s gone,” she said. The words hit the room and stayed there.