The Man Who Never Looked Away novel Chapter 15

The private room fell quiet. Garnett felt a bit soured by the interruption but turned back to continue his conversation with Joel.

A good while later, Tobin returned alone. Sigrid wasn't with him.

"Where's Sigrid?" Garnett asked.

Tobin slumped onto the sofa and pointed toward the door. "Said it was too stuffy in here. She went out to the terrace for some fresh air."

Garnett looked out through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The terrace was bathed in warm yellow light. Sigrid stood alone by the railing, the wind catching the hem of her dress. Her silhouette looked delicate and fragile.

He remembered she had just been in the hospital yesterday with a fever.

"I'm going to check on her," he said, standing up and turning to Joel. "Her fever just broke; she shouldn't be out in the wind."

Joel nodded, not pressing the issue. He knew all about Garnett and Sigrid's history. He also knew that there were still unresolved feelings between the two of them.

Garnett pushed open the terrace door, walking slowly, step by step, toward her back.

The wind rushed past, carrying the damp chill of early spring.

Garnett stopped beside her, and the two stood shoulder to shoulder, looking out at the city's neon skyline, glittering like a mirage. The night breeze whipped her hair around, the soft strands lightly brushing against his arm, stirring up an inexplicable sense of melancholy.

Garnett took off his jacket and draped it gently over her shoulders.

"Did you know?" Sigrid murmured, staring out at the city lights. "During those years I was in the Aethelgard Country, I was terrified of reading any news from Blossom City. I was so scared I'd see your name."

Garnett's fingers flexed against the railing.

"But somehow, news about you always seemed to find its way to me anyway." Sigrid turned her head away, hiding her face from him.

He stayed silent for a long moment before reaching out and grabbing her arm.

"I'm sorry," he said, leaning in close to her ear. "I'm so sorry."

Back then, when her father had been caught in a legal nightmare, Garnett's father hadn't just refused to help—he had swooped in afterward to buy up the Sloan family's assets, driving her father to die of despair in prison.

She was an incredibly poised and graceful woman. It was as if the emotional breakdown on the terrace had never happened. She had completely reverted to her gentle, tranquil self.

On the ride back, they discussed the recent economic climate, international politics, and how tensions in the Middle East were affecting oil and stock prices.

They had a lively discussion, and her insights gave him quite a bit of inspiration.

These were conversations Garnett could never have with Lavinia.

The car pulled up to Sigrid's apartment building. She smiled. "Thank you for driving me back. Good night."

Garnett glanced at the paper bag resting on the backseat.

"Sigrid," he called out just as she reached the lobby entrance.

She stopped and looked back at him.

"Here. Take this." Garnett stepped forward, holding out the paper bag.