Do You Still Love Me When We Meet Again? (Aubrey and Damon) novel Chapter 44

Chapter 44

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Frost coated the balcony glass, the world outside a hazy blur, and a biting chill hung in the air.

Inside the quiet room, the down comforter enveloped them, keeping them both exceptionally warm.

Damon felt a flush spread across his chest, a soft, fragrant weight nestled in his arms. His body, already taut with morning discomfort, tensed even further, his blood coursing hot and thick.

A hangover pounded in his head as he slowly opened his eyes.

As his senses fully awoke, he looked down to see a woman, soft and lush, cradled in his embrace. Beneath his chin was a dark head of hair, carrying a

faint, sweet scent.

He pulled back the duvet from the woman’s face and glanced down.

It was Aubrey’s pretty, sleeping face.

Had he woken up too fast and was seeing things? Or was he still dreaming?

Damon slowly tried to withdraw the arm she was pinning down.

Suddenly, Aubrey, still groggy, snuggled deeper into his embrace, her hand slipping around his waist, wrapping around her back, her face pressing tightly against his chest.

Damon’s breath hitched, and he froze.

Not an illusion, not a dream.

This woman, she’d actually climbed into his bed while he was drunk, sleeping in his arms.

He couldn’t deny it; she was soft and smelled good, her lush curves making his mouth go dry, his mind racing with unwanted desire.

His body ached, and his mind was a mess. He shook her. “Get up.”

Aubrey, still lost in a haze of sleep, felt a nudge on her shoulder, and the man’s displeased voice drifted into her ears.

Her bleary eyes fluttered open, instantly focusing on a broad chest clad in black.

It was warm, solid, and she could faintly make out the steady thrum of a heartbeat beneath her ear.

She froze mid–cuddle, her head snapping up.

Her

eyes

locked with Damon’s deep, dark, glacial gaze, and a shiver of fear ran through her. She snatched her hands back, practically tumbling out of his embrace, then scrambled to sit upright, pressing herself against the headboard.

The abrupt loss of his warmth, coupled with the lack of blanket, sent a shiver through Aubrey. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, mortified, her cheeks burning. “Oh my god, I’m so, so sorry. You were so drunk last night… I must have fallen asleep while I was looking after you. I have no idea now I ended up in your bed.”

Damon sat up, raking a hand through his already disheveled short hair. His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “Leave.”

Aubrey clutched the duvet, knees drawn to her chest, refusing to move. Her clear eyes, though still wide with embarrassment, hardened with a new

esolve.

When she didn’t budge, Damon pushed the duvet aside, swinging his legs toward the edge of the bed, clearly intending to get up..

Aubrey quickly reached out, gripping his arm, holding him back from getting out of bed.

Damon’s brows furrowed. He turned his head, his usually detached gaze now holding a flicker of confusion. “What are you doing?”

Aubrey mustered her courage, scooting closer until she sat directly in front of him, just inches away. She asked softly, “Damon, why did you ask Brenda to come back and take care of me? And why did you drink so much last night?”

Damon pressed his lips together bitterly, a faint, cold smile twisting them. After a brief silence, he retorted, “Aubrey, you know perfectly well what our relationship is. Don’t you think it’s ridiculous to ask those questions?”

“No, it’s not ridiculous.” Aubrey bit her lower lip, a bitter pang twisting in her chest. “I know you’re angry with me.”

Damon shook off her hand, throwing back the covers to get out of bed. “Not even close,” he tossed over his shoulder, his voice colder than ice.

He walked toward the bathroom.

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Aubrey quickly got out of bed, her bare feet meeting the frigid floor. A sharp chill shot up through her soles, spreading through her limbs and making her shiver uncontrollably.

She followed him to the bathroom door, grabbing his arm. Her voice held a hint of hurt. “Damon, what in the world is wrong with you?”

Damon turned impatiently, jerking his arm free from her grasp, his tone icy. “Get out. Leave my room.”

A surge of intense hurt flooded Aubrey. Her eyes welled up, and her heart ached with a dull, painful throb.

She desperately wanted to know what she’d done wrong. Why was he giving her the cold shoulder?

“I’ll go, but not until you tell me what I did to upset you.”

Damon lowered his head, taking a deep, ragged breath. His gaze dropped to her bare feet.

Suddenly, his eyes darkened. He swiftly wrapped his arms around her waist, lifted her, and carried her back towards the bed.

Caught off guard when he scooped her up by the waist, Aubrey froze, her feet dangling as her hands instinctively clutched his chest.

A moment later, he set her down on the large bed.

She stood on the bed, her hands still resting on his shoulders, looking down at him.

Damon stood by the edge of the bed, his hands still firmly gripping her slender waist. He looked up, his gaze locking with hers, his face a mask of thunder. A question, laced with fury, erupted from him: “Where are your slippers? Why are you walking around barefoot in this freezing weather?”

In that instant, Aubrey’s eyes welled up.

He was clearly angry, yet every word dripped with worry and concern.

He had been giving her the cold shoulder, yet he couldn’t help but worry about her walking barefoot.

This man, whose words never matched his true feelings, flooded her with a fresh wave of injustice, and her eyes instantly welled up, blurring her vision.

Her luminous eyes misted over, and she whispered plaintively, “Damon, are you… are you shutting me out?”

Damon’s face tightened. He gripped her wrists, pulling her hands from his shoulders. “Aubrey, we’re just friends. Stop interrogating me like I’m your boyfriend.”

Aubrey let out a bitter, brittle laugh. “You have so many friends. Why are you only ever this good to me? Do you really see me as just a friend?”

Damon’s deep voice was laced with exasperation. “What else am I supposed to think?”

Aubrey was suddenly speechless.

Disappointment shadowed Damon’s eyes. He gave a bitter, self–mocking laugh. “Even if I did treat you like a girlfriend, you

“No,” she said, her voice firm. “You’re right. I wouldn’t.”

“Then why do you care if I’m angry? Or if I’m ignoring you?”

wouldn’t want it.”

Anxiety surged through Aubrey. She rushed to explain, “But we live under the same roof, Damon. We’re constantly running into each other. You can’t just…” Her voice trailed off.

“Then we shouldn’t live together.” Damon cut in, his voice frigid. He took a step back, his cold eyes suddenly bloodshot. “I’ll move out.”

The moment he said he’d move out, Aubrey’s heart plummeted, as if a thousand sharp knives were stabbing her, the pain making her tremble. Tears of raw hurt welled in her eyes.

She stumbled off the bed.

Her feet had barely touched the floor when Damon, who had taken two steps back, swiftly lunged back toward her. His hands gripped her waist, and he lifted her forcefully, hoisting her back onto the bed. “Don’t you dare get off,” he commanded harshly.

Aubrey’s legs buckled beneath her, and she sank onto the bed, tears welling up and silently streaming down her pale cheeks.

Her throat felt as if a giant hand had clamped around it, the sharp pain stealing her breath. “Please,” she choked out, her voice barely a whisper, “just tell me why. What’s the reason?”

She looked up at Damon, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her small face crumpling, a picture of heartbreaking vulnerability.

Damon’s heart ached as he met her gaze, his brows furrowed, eyes gradually rimmed with red. He pressed his lips together, taking a deep, shaky breath, an unspeakable tension permeating the space between them.

< Chapter 44

The air grew heavy and oppressive, thick with an impenetrable haze that enveloped them both.

Their eyes met, and in the depths of their gazes, there was nothing but torturous repression and aching pain.

Their ambiguous friendship had long been undeniably more than just that.

They both knew it, but they just refused to acknowledge it, refusing to admit the truth.

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Ultimately, Damon caved under her tears, finally admitting his feelings had long surpassed the bounds of mere friendship.

He walked to the nightstand, picked up his phone, opened his social media feed, showing a collection of pictures and updates much like an Instagram story or Facebook Moments, and handed it to Aubrey.

His voice was chillingly clear. “Aubrey, this is why I don’t want to see you anymore.”

Aubrey took the phone, lifting her sleeve to wipe away her tears, and looked at the Moments on Damon’s screen.

It was a nine–picture grid from Ethan.

She tapped to enlarge it.

A gasp caught in her throat as she stared at the photos, her face draining of color. Her hand trembled around the phone, her lower lip caught between her teeth, a raw burn in her throat.

A suffocating wave of fury surged in her chest, threatening to burst.

Damon watched her, letting her absorb the images, then turned and left the room.

When he re–entered, he held a pair of women’s fuzzy slippers, which he tossed onto the floor beside the bed. “Get your slippers on and get out.”

Aubrey remained frozen, her gaze glued to the phone.

Damon reached for the device, but Aubrey flinched back, tucking it behind her. She lifted her chin, her tears having subsided, leaving only wet, red–rimmed eyes. “There’s been a misunderstanding,” she whispered, her voice a small, wounded sound.

“A misunderstanding?” Damon scoffed. “Are these photos Photoshopped, Aubrey? Or AI–generated?”

“The photos are real, it’s just that…”

Damon cut her off, his voice low and heavy with profound sorrow. “Aubrey, I don’t have the right or the place to be angry with you. This is your choice. But I genuinely hate you; I can’t help it, and I can’t change it. I just want to keep my distance from you.”

Aubrey frantically patted her pockets, realizing her phone was gone. She threw back the blankets, searching everywhere, and finally picked up her dropped phone from beside the bed.

Without a word, she raised her phone and snapped a picture of the nine–grid post on Damon’s Instagram feed.

After taking the picture, she handed the phone back to Damon, her expression serious, her tone firm. “Damon, this is truly just a misunderstanding. Give me some time, and I’ll give you a proper explanation.”

“I’m not your boyfriend. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“But you care, don’t you?” Aubrey’s vulnerable eyes shimmered with a flicker of unease as she looked up, gazing at him.

“If I care, that’s my business. Why are you so anxious? Why are you crying?”

Aubrey got out of bed, slipped on her slippers, and, lacking the courage to answer his question, whispered softly, “Please don’t go. Just give me some time, and I’ll explain this misunderstanding.”

She walked out.

Damon turned, watching her slender, forlorn back. His chest felt like it was being crushed by a boulder, suffocating and aching with a dull, unbearable

pain.

He couldn’t figure her out. What was she thinking?

Did she care about him?

Yet she betrayed him, abandoned him, and refused to be with him.

Didn’t she care about him?

But she was afraid of him leaving, didn’t want him to misunderstand, and even cried because of him.

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Chapter 44

What was really going on inside her head?

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Damon was sick of this ambiguous feeling. He tossed his phone aside and turned to go into the bathroom.

Aubrey left his room, went to her own to change into her going out clothes, and then emerged carrying her bag.

Brenda politely asked, “Ms. Hayes, aren’t you going to eat breakfast?”

“No.” Without another word, she opened the door and left.

Brenda hurried after her. “Aubrey, are you heading to work? I can give you a ride!”

“Don’t follow me,” Aubrey said, her voice icy.

Brenda froze at the doorway.

Just then, Damon emerged from his room. Brenda turned back, a helpless look on her face, and explained, “Mr. Blackwood, Ms. Hayes wouldn’t let me

drive her…”

Damon’s expression darkened. He responded softly, “It’s fine. She probably has some personal matters to take care of.”

“Alright,” Brenda said, closing the door.

Aubrey scrolled through her blocked list, found Brendan’s number, and dialed.

Brendan answered, his voice thick with sleep and irritation. “Who is it? You’re going to wake the dead this early in the morning.”

“Give me the number of the photographer from your wedding day,” Aubrey said, walking as she spoke.

Brendan paused for a few seconds before letting out a cold scoff. “Finally decided to unblock me, huh? Who do you think you are? What right do you have to order me around?”

“Brendan…” Aubrey’s voice dropped to a guttural growl, her tone lethal, steeped in a rage that promised annihilation. “Send me the photographer’s

number. Now.”

Brendan flinched so hard he shuddered, shooting bolt upright from his new marital bed, his hands trembling.

His earlier cocky bravado evaporated in an instant.

Aubrey rarely erupted in anger, but when she did, Brendan simply couldn’t withstand it.

After all, growing up, even if their mother had always favored him, protecting him at every turn, Aubrey had often bullied him into submission whenever their mother wasn’t around.

When Aubrey truly let loose, she could pin him to the ground and beat him senseless.

Perhaps it was a primal blood dominance, but Brendan’s earlier arrogance completely vanished. He mumbled, “Fine. Just unblock me on the Whatsapp too, and I’ll send it.”

Aubrey immediately hung up, unblocking him on her Whatsapp.

Less than three seconds later, Brendan pushed the photographer’s Whatsapp contact through, complete with their phone number.

Aubrey immediately contacted the photographer.

As a lawyer, she exerted pressure, and with a few well–chosen words, she had him send her the unedited wedding footage without a fuss.

Holding the raw video, she called Ethan Sterling again.

Her voice was glacial. “Where are you?”

Ethan, still thick with sleep, his voice a lazy drawl, answered, “Home. What’s wrong?”

“Wait for me.”

With that, she hung up the phone, got into a rideshare, and headed straight to the Sterling residence.

Ethan’s parents knew her.

Seeing her arrive first thing in the morning, they greeted her with practiced cordiality.

She politely returned their greetings and went straight to Ethan’s room.

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Ethan hadn’t locked his door before falling asleep.

Aubrey walked into the room, closed the door behind her, and approached the edge of the bed.

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Ethan was deep in a bary second sleep when he vaguely beard a sound. Groggily, he opened his eyes. “Bere,” he mumbled, “what brings you here as early

She tossed her crossbody bag to the foot of the bed. With one hand, the yanked back his covers, and with the other, she grabbed the collar of his deep shirt, hauling him up forcefully.

Ethan was yanked upright, a look of utter confusion on his face.

Before he could even process what was happening. Aubrey’s palm connected with his face.

Crack!

The sharp, stinging sound resonated through the entire room, sending Ethan sprawling back onto the bed.

Aubrey had put every ounce of her strength into that slap; her own palm throbbed with a fiery ache.

You could only imagine how much Ethan Sterling’s face must have hurt.

Ethan was utterly shell–shocked, his hand flying to his throbbing, burning cheek. Rage pulsed through him, his chest heaved as the pain finally jolted him fully awake. He spun around, glaring at her, a low snarl ripping from his throat. “Aubrey, have you lost your damn mind? You come to my house first thing in the morning and hit me? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Aubrey pulled out her phone, opened the screenshots of the social media posts she’d taken, and thrust them in front of Ethan Sterling, Her voice clipped, she enunciated each word: “You paid a photographer to secretly capture intimate moments between us, and then you posted them on your social media, making them visible only to Damon. Ethan, Ethan, I’ve known since we were kids that you play dirty, but I never imagined you’d use such a disgusting trick against me.”

Ethan Sterling froze. All his anger and defiance evaporated in that instant. He began to explain, his voice tinged with guilt and unease. I’m so sorry, Bree! Please, just let me explain.”

“I’m not here to listen to your explanations.” Aubrey snatched her cross–body bag, her voice utterly devoid of warmth. “I just wanted to make sure you felt that slap, and to inform you that our friendship ends here. From now on, if we ever meet again, we’re strangers.”

With that final declaration, Aubrey spun on her heel and walked out.

Ethan Sterling ignored the fiery sting in his cheek, leapt out of bed, and gripped Aubrey’s arm. “Bree, I did all of this for you! Can’t you see I was doing this all for your own good?”

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