She wishes she was losing him to a real person – sometimes she thinks that might be easier. That way, she'd have someone to blame, someone to hate.
She didn't think he was the jealous type – hell, it was ridiculous being jealous of a ghost but she just couldn't help it.
He'd told her about the girl, his first love, about their volatile relationship, their ending and eventually her death. She'd asked him if the girl was alive, would he want to be with her and he'd replied that honestly, he didn't know.
She could have sworn she heard her heart breaking in that moment.
He'd rushed to reassure her that if she'd shown up there on the deck in front of him, he'd choose Elizabeth no questions asked.
She'd felt reassured, for a while.
Until, that was, that she'd heard the whispered "I miss you"'s and "I wish you were here"'s that floated through the air from the bridge on more than one occasion in the dead of night when she'd awoken in their bed cold and alone. She didn't want to admit how much that hurt.
Her mind had gone in to overdrive then. Did he think about the girl when he was with her? Did he still love her? She didn't think she'd be able to bear it if he did. But the agonising second guessing, the not knowing was tearing her apart from the inside out.
She tried to console herself: there was no way he could go back to her; he was with Elizabeth now; he loved her.
But sometimes, it just didn't help.