Do You Still Love Me When We Meet Again? (Aubrey and Damon) novel Chapter 187

Chapter 187

Damon picked up the basket of pears and began walking toward the kitchen.

After a few steps, he glanced back to make sure Aubrey was following him before continuing inside.

“You wash them, and I’ll handle the slicing and juicing,” Damon said, assigning her a task simply to ensure she stayed by his side.

Aubrey asked curiously, “Are we going to use the juice for the reduction?”

“Exactly. We’ll grind the fritillary, loquat, and red dates into a fine powder, mix it all together, and let it simmer on low for about an hour. Once it thickens into a syrup, we’ll bottle it while it’s still warm. It’ll keep for over a year. Just stir a spoonful into hot water–it’s the best thing for a cough and clearing your lungs.”

Aubrey was genuinely surprised. “You actually know what you’re doing.”

Stepping into the kitchen, Damon dumped the pears into the sink and flicked on the faucet. He turned and leaned back against the counter, watching her. “Did you think I was joking?”

Aubrey shook her head, rolling up her sleeves as she walked over to the sink. “I figured you’d be Googling the recipe and instructions as you went.”

Damon let out a soft chuckle. He reached out and ruffled her hair, his voice dropping into a tender, intimate register. “I know my way around a kitchen, Aubrey. I’m not just trying to impress you.”

Aubrey froze for a heartbeat. A sudden, familiar wave of warmth washed over her, and she looked up at him, her pulse quickening.

His hand lingered on her head for a few seconds before he finally pulled back, a faint, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

Did you use to touch my head a lot?” she asked.

I liked touching you everywhere,” he said, his tone casual yet heavy with meaning. “But since you’re on the shorter side, your head was just… more

Iccessible.”

He said it so effortlessly, but Aubrey felt her face flush and her heart skip a beat. Having no memory was a problem; she wasn’t used to this kind of uggestive banter yet, and it left her completely off–balance.

She fell silent.

‘ocusing intently on the task at hand, she began washing the pears, carefully placing each one back into the basket.

Damon took a fresh pear, expertly removing the core before slicing the fruit into quarters to be juiced.

unlight flooded through the kitchen window, bathing the room in a golden glow. Their silhouettes–his tall and imposing, hers slight and elicate–worked side by side in a cozy harmony. The kitchen felt filled with a springtime warmth, the air sweet with the subtle, crisp fragrance of

ears.

Jamon sliced off a piece of the fruit and held it out to Aubrey. “Want a taste?”

The crisp, sweet scent of the pears had been teasing Aubrey’s appetite for minutes. She reached out with her wet hands to take the slice he offered, but Jamon sidestepped her grasp, guiding the fruit directly toward her lips instead.

he froze for a heartbeat, her gaze dropping to his long, elegant fingers as they held the pale fruit. After a few seconds of hesitation, she slowly parted er lips.

Jamon personally fed the slice of pear into her mouth.

The cool, sugary juice instantly flooded her senses, refreshing and incredibly sweet. As she hit down on the crisp fruit, a strange, fluttering ensation–something unfamiliar and electric–bloomed deep in her chest.

he finished washing the rest of the pears, but Damon was still meticulously slicing.

I can start the juicer for you,” she offered.

No need,” he replied, his voice low and steady.

Then let me do the slicing, and you can handle the juice,” she offered.

The blade’s too sharp,” Damon countered, his tone low and protective. “I’ve got it. Just stay right here and watch–you don’t have to lift a finger.”

Aubrey felt a pang of guilt letting him do all the work. Feeling a bit out of place, she leaned against the kitchen counter, her gaze drifting from his

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elegant fingers up to his face.

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His skin was flawless, and his deep–set eyes were framed by dark, well–defined brows. He had a high, straight bridge to his nose and soft, pale lips.

His refined features reminded her of a mountain spring under the moonlight–a striking contradiction of warmth and cool detachment.

There was an intellectual sophistication to his aura, and with his lean, athletic build, he carried himself with an effortless, aristocratic grace no matter

what he wore

In terms of looks, her boyfriend was beyond reproach.

In terms of family background, she knew she was punching well above her weight class.

Was that why her former self had been willing to stay with him, even if marriage was off the table?

Had she really been that much of a hopeless romantic back then?

As Aubrey lost herself in her thoughts, Damon caught her staring out of the corner of his eye. A faint smirk tugged at his thin lips. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked, his voice soft and low.

Aubrey asked him flatly, her voice devoid of emotion, “We’re never actually going to get married, are we?”

Damon’s hand stilled, his gaze darkening instantly. “Who told you that?”

“My aunt.”

Damon froze mid–slice, a cold scoff escaping his chest. “Of course. Her again.”

Aubrey tilted her head, her voice laced with genuine curiosity. “If marriage is off the table and I can’t even remember who you are, why didn’t you just call it quits?”

Damon set the paring knife down with a sharp clack. He braced one hand against the marble countertop and pivoted to face her, his expression darkening into something stormier. “Aubrey Hayes,” he began, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous octave, “are you kidding me right now?”

The full name. He was actually pissed.

She immediately forced a tight, awkward smile. “I was just wondering, that’s all.”

Damon let out a long, heavy exhale, though his intensity didn’t flicker. He picked the knife back up and resumed slicing the pear with surgical precision. “I don’t care if your brain is a total blank slate. Don’t ever mention the word ‘breakup‘ again. Not today, not tomorrow–not until the day we die.”

Aubrey felt a prickle of annoyance. She was only trying to gauge his perspective; it wasn’t like she’d dropped a bomb. Was the ‘B–word‘ really that taboo to him?

This guy wasn’t just short–tempered; he was possessive and clearly had a manipulative streak. It was only the first day of meeting him after her memory loss, and the list of red flags was already growing longer by the second.

Noticing the shift in her mood, Damon leaned in closer, trapping her with his gaze. His voice softened, losing its edge. “You’re not already starting to hate me, are you?”

Not quite,” Aubrey murmured, forcing a small smile. At this distance, his beauty was almost overwhelming. His lashes were thick and dark, and she noticed a faint, tiny mole just at the corner of his eye–a subtle detail that gave his striking features a hint of raw, magnetic charm.

Damon offered a knowing smirk and straightened up, returning his focus to the fruit.

Aubrey spoke softly. “I’ve noticed something. When you’re actually angry, you use my full name.”

Damon didn’t deny it, letting out a low, rough hum of agreement. “Yeah.”

“So, to avoid getting on your bad side in the future, can you tell me where the line is? What topics are off–limits for me?”

You already crossed the only line I have.”

“Just because of those two words?” Aubrey stared at him, stunned. “There’s nothing else? No other rules?”

Damon nodded. “When it comes to you, that’s the only one. There’s nothing else.”

Aubrey looked down, her mind racing.

A man whose absolute limit was his girlfriend mentioning a breakup? It felt almost impossible to believe. She tried again. “What about cheating? Isn’t that usually the ultimate deal–breaker?”

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Damon gave a bitter, dark smile. Just don’t let me find out.”

Aubrey was speechless.

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She stood beside him in silence as the pear syrup simmered. His movements were practiced and fluid, and as the mixture thickened, a sweet aroma filled he room. He clearly knew his way around a kitchen.

He was a far cry from the pampered, silver–spoon elite she’d imagined him to be.

n the few hours she’d spent with him, not a single memory had returned. But without the memories, there was no emotional baggage weighing her

lown.

f you stripped away the filter of the past, what was the essence of love? Was it just the soul’s inertia, or was it a brand–new choice?

One thing was for sure–she wasn’t the type to just settle.

Damon.”

Yeah?” Damon flicked off the burner and set the wooden spatula down. He turned, his gaze dropping to meet hers with focused intensity.

Aubrey spoke slowly, her voice laced with a newfound gravity. “You’ve known me for eleven years, so you probably think you know exactly how I vork. But right now, I know nothing about you. I even feel a flicker of resistance. I’m not the type to be swayed by a pretty face, and I don’t have the >enefit of old memories to soften the edges. I’m going to make this choice for myself. I’ll only choose a partner if I feel a real connection, if our values dign, and if they are truly worth loving. Anything less than a real commitment is just a waste of my time.”

Damon remained composed, his expression an unreadable mask as he slowly leaned back against the counter, his large frame silhouetted by the kitchen ights.

If the bottom line is that we might end up breaking up, then I’m sorry, but I won’t just go along with things blindly,” she continued, her voice firm. “I ave my own mind, and I will make the choice that’s right for me, regardless of our history.”

A bitter, self–deprecating smile touched Damon’s lips. “You used to hate the idea of this surgery. One of the reasons was because you knew yourself too vell. You were terrified that if you lost your memory, you wouldn’t hesitate to leave me.”

Then why go through with it?” she asked, her breath hitching.

Because the depression was winning,” he said, his voice dropping to a raw, hollowed–out tone. “You were spiraling, Aubrey. You were constantly ooking for a way out–a way to end it all. Between keeping you alive and keeping you mine, I chose to keep you alive.”

A surge of emotion tightened Aubrey’s chest. She felt a pang of genuine gratitude, but the wall she’d built stayed firm. “I… I appreciate that. Truly, And

‘ll make an effort to get to know you. But please, don’t get your hopes up. I don’t want to be the reason you’re disappointed.”

Leaving the words hanging in the air, Aubrey gave him a polite, distant nod and turned to walk out of the kitchen.

Damon’s expression darkened as he watched her walk away. His eyes were a turbulent sea of unspoken emotions, and he let out a long, weary sigh of helplessness.