The Man Who Never Looked Away novel Chapter 60

He sat on the edge of the bed, his phone in his hand. The screen was glowing, hovering over a single name in his contacts.

Lavinia.

His thumb lingered above the glass, paralyzed.

Back on the sidewalk, he had violently snatched his jacket off her shoulders. She had stood there in the freezing night wind, her shirt soaked, her hair messy, looking like an abandoned stray.

He had even grabbed Sigrid's hand right in front of her, purely out of spite.

He knew that, by any conventional standard, he was an abysmal husband. He had always operated under the assumption that she had married out of her league, that she was desperately in love with him, and therefore, she should just endure whatever he did.

Was that actually true?

If he had turned back to look at her in that moment, would he have seen the devastation hiding beneath her unyielding exterior?

Garnett flipped the phone face down on the mattress, leaned his head back, and stared at the ceiling. The harsh overhead light stung his eyes, but he refused to blink.

"Garnett?" Sigrid's soft voice drifted through the door. "The drinks are ready."

He stood up, left his phone on the bed, opened the door, and walked out.

The amber liquid caught the light as he took the glass. He took a slow sip, saying nothing. Sigrid sat across from him, equally silent, perfectly content to just exist in his space.

The city skyline glittered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but the suite was as quiet as a tomb.

Sigrid set her glass down and gently placed her hand over his. Her palm was warm against his cool skin. Then, she rested her head against his shoulder, her movements as light as a falling leaf.

"Are you hurting?" she asked softly.

Garnett didn't flinch. The city lights flickered across his face, casting shifting shadows.

Sigrid looked up at him. His jaw was locked tight, the muscles ticking, and a dark, heavy shadow lingered in his eyes.

She rarely saw him like this. Garnett Harper was always composed, unshakable, sharp, and flawlessly put together.

"Garnett, what happened today was Tobin's fault. I'll talk to him. He was probably just trying to stand up for me."

He remained completely silent.

Garnett didn't reply. It sounded like an objective answer, but it was just another way of taking his side.

"I'm going to bed." His tone shifted back to its usual icy detachment. "You should go home."

Sigrid stood up with him, not letting go of his hand. She just looked up at him. "Garnett, I'm worried about you. Let me stay here tonight? I promise I won't bother you."

Garnett looked down at her. There were no tears in her eyes, just a quiet, perfectly calibrated affection that knew exactly where the boundaries were.

He thought about it. There were spare rooms anyway.

"Do what you want," he said flatly. "Just don't tell anyone."

She nodded.

Garnett turned, walked into the master bedroom, and locked the door. The heavy oak shut behind him with a dull, absolute thud. He didn't turn on the lights. He just collapsed onto the bed and stared blankly into the pitch-black ceiling.

He didn't come out for the rest of the night.