Do You Still Love Me When We Meet Again? (Aubrey and Damon) novel Chapter 193

Chapter 193

Her answer was so effortless. As she turned her gaze back to the road ahead, she missed the way a wave of raw excitement surged through the man

beside her.

A sudden silence settled in the car.

Aubrey leaned back against the headrest, watching the bright sunlight drench every inch of the city streets.

The late October weather was perfection. The afternoon sun filtered through the glass, wrapping her in a golden, cozy warmth.

She rolled down the window, closing her eyes as she tilted her head back. She let the sun wash over her face while the cool breeze rushed in, gently brushing against her skin and teasing the loose strands of her hair.

In just a few seconds, her cheeks glowed with a soft, sun–kissed flush.

Damon caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye. He stole a couple of looks, but with his hands on the wheel, he couldn’t afford to be distracted. Still, he couldn’t resist tracking her reflection in the side mirror, mesmerized by the sight of her beautiful, radiant face.

The Aubrey he used to know was different. Back then, she would keep the windows shut and the curtains drawn tight, cocooning herself in the shadows of a cool, dark room. Whether she was lying in bed or curled up in a corner, there had always been a faint, lingering air of melancholy about

her.

But the woman standing before him now thrived in the sunlight. She seemed to crave the scent of the breeze, looking radiant and full of life. There was an understated elegance to her, a breathtaking beauty that felt almost ethereal.

Damon found himself feeling a sharp pang of envy toward the sun and the wind, jealous that they could brush against her skin so freely.

He pulled the car into the lot of a secluded Cantonese restaurant.

For some reason, these high–end, authentic spots always seemed to favor remote locations–tucked away near the mountains or hidden by a stream. Even though it was far off the beaten path, the place was clearly thriving.

We’re here,” Damon said, unbuckling his seatbelt.

Aubrey followed suit, glancing out the window at their surroundings. The atmosphere was serene and private, possessing a sort of rustic, understated :harm. The building didn’t even have a sign out front, yet the parking lot was packed with cars.

It was the kind of place that didn’t need to advertise–the kind that relied purely on its reputation for being the real deal.

As they stepped out of the car, Aubrey asked curiously,“Can you actually find authentic Cantonese food here in New Haven?”

This is as authentic as it gets. You’re the one who brought me here the first time,” Damon said, stepping up beside her and looking toward the

restaurant.

When?”

‘Seven years ago…”

That long?” Aubrey searched her mind, but nothing came to her. She was genuinely shocked by how far back their history went.

Damon offered a small, reminiscent smile.“We weren’t even out of college yet. Back when we lived together, you were always homesick for a real taste of home. I tried to learn the classic Cantonese recipes myself, but I couldn’t quite get them right. You brought me here to ‘spy‘ on the chef so I could steal his secrets.”

Aubrey watched him, her wide, clear eyes reflecting a quiet curiosity as she hung on every word of their shared history. She looked at him with an intensity that felt both fragile and searching, trying to find herself in his memories.

It struck her then–she actually liked hearing these stories.

No matter who was telling the story, the narrative of their past was always the same: it was a testament to her worth and his devotion. Every word painted a picture of his fierce, deep, and undeniable love for her.

Knowing she had been loved that intensely made her feel a strange, sharp pang of envy toward her former self–a version of her that she currently knew nothing about.

“Spying didn’t really work, though,” Damon continued.“I ended up paying the chef to let me study under him for a few days. I eventually got pretty good at your favorite dishes–at least, good enough to suit your palate.”

Aubrey looked at him, puzzled.“Weren’t you busy? Why were you the one doing the cooking?”

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Damon placed a hand lightly against the small of her back, his touch restrained and gentlemanly as he guided her toward the entrance. “In college, I had plenty of time on my hands,” he said as they walked.“Besides, you didn’t exactly have a natural talent for the kitchen. Even when you followed a video step–by–step, the results were… questionable. I figured it was safer if I took over.”

So you cooked, and I did the dishes?” Aubrey Hayes asked, her mind trying to piece together the logic of their past life.

Nope.” Damon Blackwood shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips.“I did the dishes, too.”

Did I at least sweep or mop the floors?”

You didn’t have to do that either.”

No way.” Aubrey couldn’t believe her past self had been that spoiled. Was she really the type of person to take total advantage of her boyfriend? She lidn’t believe in outdated gender roles, but she definitely believed in pulling her own weight. “Then what did I do?”

You took out the trash, wiped the tables, did the laundry…”

Aubrey couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

A relationship that sounded this perfect shouldn’t have led to despair. If life was that sweet, why had she ended up so broken? What could have Dossibly pushed her into such a deep, dark depression?

So, where are we headed after lunch?” Aubrey asked, her curiosity piqued.

How about a movie?”

I’d love that! What are we seeing?”

Damon guided her into the private dining room, a playful glint in his eyes. “Let’s finish lunch first, then we’ll decide.”

‘Deal!”

She found herself actually looking forward to being pursued by him.

This man–this gorgeous, strikingly handsome man–seemed like the absolute total package. He was attentive, poised, and possessed an effortless, jentlemanly charm that felt both rare and refined.

He had to be a total romantic, right?

Well…

Romantic?

That particular illusion shattered into a million pieces exactly two hours after lunch.

As it turned out, the man didn’t have a romantic bone in his body.

In fact, he was downright calculating.

it wasn’t until they stepped into the theater that Aubrey realized he had picked a horror movie. Their seats were “loveseats“-a double–wide plush chair with no armrest in the middle, designed specifically for couples to stay close.

He hadn’t bothered with the usual concessions. No popcorn, no soda–he just carried a single bottle of water.

The theater was dimly lit and mostly empty, with only a few scattered couples and a handful of solo viewers sitting in the shadows.

“Why a horror movie?”

Aubrey whispered tentatively as they settled into their seat.

Damon sat down beside her, noticing how she was already instinctively leaning toward him, seeking a sense of security.

“Because you love them,” Damon murmured, his breath ghosting against her ear.

Aubrey shifted slightly, trying to create a bit of distance.“No way. I definitely don’t like horror movies.”

“You just forgot that you do,” Damon said with absolute certainty. “You used to drag me to the theater to see them all the time.”

Aubrey was speechless.

She had amnesia, not a lobotomy. Just looking at the movie’s poster had sent shivers down her spine; there was no way she actually enjoyed this,

As the start time ticked closer, her palms began to sweat. She swallowed hard and looked at him.“Is this how you pursued me back in college? By scaring me into your arms?”

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“No.” Damon said, his voice dropping into a low, nostalgic hum. “Back then, you were only a teenager–sweet and innocent. I’d message you on the Grid very day, bring you snacks or flowers, maybe a plushie every once in a while. I was always hanging around your classroom. After three months of that, I finally asked you to be mine, and you said yes.”

Aubrey let out a soft, mocking scoff.“Cheap tricks to fool a little girl.”

Damon knew she was right. It had only worked because she was at that age where the heart first begins to stir, and he’d been lucky enough to find her in her prime. Now, she was at her most mature, at an age where she needed love the least.

With your experience now,” he admitted, “those old moves wouldn’t stand a chance of winning you over.”

But your current tactics are just so…” Aubrey started, but before she could finish, the theater lights snapped off. The sudden plunge into darkness sent a olt of fear through her. She instinctively recoiled, shrinking into the warmth of his chest. Her voice was trembling, but she forced the final word out inyway.dirty.

Damon leaned back into his seat, his chest an open invitation for her to hide against. The corners of his mouth curled into a slow, satisfied smirk. sometimes, it didn’t matter if the methods were dirty. What mattered was that they were effective–and right now, they were working perfectly. The screen flickered to life, displaying a derelict, atmospheric house. As the haunting score began to swell, a woman on screen jolted awake, her eyes larting frantically around the room.

juddenly, a severed head bounced onto the woman’s bed. She let out a blood–curdling scream, her face twisted in pure, unadulterated terror… Aubrey jumped, spinning around to bury her face in Damon’s chest. She pressed her cheek against the crook of his neck and covered her ears, her reath coming in shallow gasps. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and her voice trembled as she whispered, “Is it over? Is that head gone?”

Damon’s large hand hooked around her shoulder, pulling her deeper into his embrace. His voice was soft and husky, vibrating against her. “Not yet. She ust kicked it off the bed, but now she’s crawling toward the edge to get a closer look…”

Torn between terror and morbid curiosity, Aubrey slowly turned her head within the safety of his arms, peeking at the screen out of the corner of her

1. ye.

The searing heat of his chest and the clean, crisp scent of his cologne wrapped around her, providing an unexpected sense of security. Her racing heart

egan to steady, and the sharp edge of her fear slowly dulled.

There was something about being in his arms–an intensity, a sense of belonging–that felt hauntingly