Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 457

When Lester heard her still call him “Mr. Sanford,” he understood—she wanted to keep her distance. Yet he couldn’t help but be curious about her.

He leaned in just a bit, noticing the subtle scent of earl grey clinging to her. It was faint, but somehow comforting.

Sylvia, realizing he hadn’t answered for a while, finally turned her head—only to find they were much closer than she’d thought.

She quickly pulled back, reminding him, “Mr. Sanford?”

Snapping out of it, Lester glanced over her profile, his gaze a little too intense before he forced himself to relax. “Sure,” he said quietly.

Sylvia gave a soft “Okay,” and purposefully put more space between them.

Just as they neared the restaurant, Lester’s phone buzzed. Reese’s name flashed on the screen.

“What’s up? You always forget something,” Lester said, pausing and glancing at Sylvia. “I’m a bit busy right now.”

Maybe it was just too quiet in the car, but Sylvia could hear Reese’s voice on the other end, crystal clear.

“Hey, bro, you’re not out with Sylvia, are you?”

“I am,” Lester admitted without hesitation.

Sylvia’s cheeks flushed, and she twisted her fingers together, trying to calm her nerves.

It was an old anxiety, really. Eight years of bad luck, years treading carefully in the Garcia family, and Tristan constantly holding her back. She’d convinced herself that nobody would ever want to stand by her side.

Lester turned and gave her a reassuring look.

Sylvia pressed her lips together, just as Reese’s excited voice came through the speaker: “I made a killer lasagna tonight! Bring Sylvia over and let’s all have dinner together.”

“We wouldn’t want to interrupt your cozy evening with Mr. Rupert,” Lester replied, already refusing.

“Rupert’s cool with it! Plus, you still have my stuff in your trunk—my treasures! If I don’t see them, I’ll be heartbroken,” Reese wheedled.

Lester sighed. “Fine… but Sylvia—”

She swung open the door, poking her head out. “Hey, you made it! Come on in—I’ve got garlic bread in the oven!”

Inside, Reese was in comfy sweats and a pink apron, a spatula still in her hand.

She rushed to the closet, pulling out a pair of guest slippers for both of them.

Sylvia glanced down and saw two pairs of sneakers—one men’s, one women’s—lined up side by side. She froze for a second.

“What’s wrong, Sylvia? Do they not fit? I grabbed the first pair I could find—Rupert has nothing here yet. Looks like I’ll be busy fixing that,” Reese said, sounding mock-annoyed but obviously happy.

Sylvia shook her head. “They fit just fine, thanks.”

After slipping on the slippers, she looked up and saw someone quietly approaching—Rupert, standing just a few steps behind Reese.

Three steps apart, but the distance felt impossible to cross.

She kept her voice steady. “Uncle Rupert.”