Something almost pathetic. Behind them, somewhere upstairs, Willow laughed. The sound cut through the room. Claire heard it too. And for the first time, something like shame crossed her face. Small. Late. But there. Jack followed her eyes toward the ceiling. Then back to her. Jack stared at her. Then, after a beat, he said, “And what about Willow?” Claire didn’t answer.
Jack took a step closer. “What about her?” he said. “Did you ever think about what this would do to her?” Claire’s jaw tightened. Jack didn’t stop. “How does a child grow up with her mother’s face changing?” he asked. “How far did you go, Claire? How many times did you do this?” Something flickered across her face. Not guilt. Something colder.