Do You Still Love Me When We Meet Again? (Aubrey and Damon) novel Chapter 77

Chapter 77

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Aubrey placed her phone on the nightstand, walked over to him, and knelt on the bed. She grabbed his arm, tugging hard.

“Damon, get up. This is my bed.”

“I’m so dizzy. Just need to sleep it off for a bit,” Damon mumbled, not budging an inch. He buried his face into her soft mattress.

The soft apricot duvet still carried Aubrey’s sweet scent. He took a deep breath, letting the intoxicating fragrance fill his senses, utterly unwilling to

move.

Aubrey tugged a few times, only managing to lift his arm; his muscular frame didn’t budge an inch.

Exhausted, she let go of his hand, gasping for air. Annoyed by his shameless refusal, she sat beside him, her voice cool and sharp as she warned, “If you don’t get up now, I’m calling your fiancée to come get you.”

“Mm–hmm,” Damon mumbled, keeping his eyes closed, effectively tuning her out.

“If she shows up, things will be completely different. Your behavior could almost be defined as infidelity.”

Damon still had his eyes closed, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he nonchalantly squeezed out a single syllable: “Oh.”

Clearly, he was completely oblivious to how out of line his actions were.

Aubrey’s patience snapped. She reached out, feeling for his pant pocket.

She ran her hand over his left thigh, but there was no phone. She moved around to his other side and slipped her hand into his pocket.

Damon’s voice, a lazy, syrupy drawl, was husky and steeped in suggestive innuendo. “Aubrey, what exactly are you doing, feeling up my thigh like that? I’m a decent man, you know.”

Aubrey pulled out her phone, snorting, “What ‘decent man‘ gets drunk and crashes on his ex–girlfriend’s bed?”

Damon murmured, “This room, this bed… I slept here for over three years.”

Aubrey’s heart skipped a beat, and her fingers trembled slightly as she unlocked his phone.

His words struck a chord in her heart, sending ripples through her. Every memory, every moment of their past, magnified infinitely in that instant.

Every corner of this house held beautiful memories of them.

But now, nothing was the same.

There was no going back.

Aubrey took a deep breath, her fingers automatically typing in the password as the screen lit up.

This man was stubbornly devoted, still using her birthday as his password after ten years, never even thinking of changing it.

“I’m giving you one last chance,” Aubrey said, opening his contacts and staring at Damon. “Are you leaving or not? Because if you don’t, I’m calling Veronica.”

Damon said nothing.

Seeing he wouldn’t budge, Aubrey steeled herself and searched through his contacts.

His contacts were almost all full names. Even his parents were listed with their full names: Chase Blackwood, Victoria Stone. His older brother, Zachary, and younger sister, Tracy, were listed simply by their first names, no titles or prefixes.

Scrolling through such a meticulously organized list, she went through it twice, past dozens of names, but couldn’t find Veronica’s name anywhere.

The more she scrolled, the more bewildered she became. “Damon, why isn’t Veronica in your contacts?”

Damon’s lips curved slightly. He turned his head to face her, his eyes narrowed in a hazy squint. “If she’s not there, don’t bother looking.”

Aubrey, not one to give up easily, noticed one name that stood out from the rest.

“A–Big Sis, My Lady?” Aubrey mumbled, utterly perplexed.

He didn’t have any sisters, not even cousins. The ‘A‘ likely meant she was prioritized, keeping her at the top of his contact list. ‘Big Sis implied aftection, and was a playful callback to their card game where he’d lost a bet to call her that. ‘My Lady‘ was clearly a term of deep respect.

Pinned, affectionate, and with an honorific? It had that same ridiculous, over–the–top vibe as ‘My Queen‘ or ‘Wifey Deurest‘ He couldn’t possibly have

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saved her contact like that, could he?

“I found it,” Aubrey declared, holding the phone, the contact name displayed prominently, in front of Damon before pressing dial.

Damon’s eyes darted to the name on the phone screen, his brows knitting tightly. He lunged, hand shooting out to snatch the device, his voice urgent, “Don’t call.”

Aubrey recoiled, scrambling off the bed.

Damon scrambled up, sitting on the bed.

Just then, the phone on the nightstand rang.

Aubrey froze. Her gaze snapped to her own phone, then back to Damon’s screen in her hand.

She raced over to check it. The caller ID, to her utter shock, was Damon.

She immediately ended the call she’d initiated on Damon’s phone, then quickly opened the ‘A–Big Sis, My Lady‘ contact to reveal the number.

In that instant, she froze solid. Her heart lurched, a strange ripple blooming through her chest. A quiet, profound intimacy, invisible yet palpable, suddenly charged the air, making the deep silence feel heavy.

In Damon’s phone, her number was the only one not saved under her actual name?

And it was saved under some bizarre, cryptic label.

“Why did you save me as ‘A–Big Sis, My Lady‘?” Aubrey’s mind reeled.

Damon braced his hands on the bed, looking up at her, his slightly bloodshot eyes fixed on hers. A knowing smile played on his lips, and his magnetic voice was a deep, soft, and tender murmur, “Big Sis.”

That single word, “Big Sis,” sent a scorching rush through Aubrey’s entire body.

Her heart melted.

The man, half a year her senior, drunk and disheveled, his rough, deep voice both magnetic and resonant, softly calling her “Big Sis“-it was lethally

alluring.

Aubrey remembered.

Their bet from the last card game.

It had seemed she lost, even trying to get out of the bet.

In reality, everyone knew she’d won–a decisive and beautiful victory. Alex had even called her “Big Sister” right then and there.

“Give me the phone,” Damon said, reaching out a hand to her.

Aubrey gripped his phone and took a step back, her heart hammering against her ribs, threatening to leap into her throat, her breath catching in her

chest.

No, this half–drunken Damon was utterly lethal.

She opened his messaging app, searched for Veronica’s name, trying several variations without success. “What’s Veronica’s handle?”

Damon slowly lowered his hand, his gaze deep and scorching. “You don’t need to look,” he said, his voice low. “Veronica and I already called off the engagement.”

“Why?” Aubrey blurted out, startled. A surge of illicit joy bloomed in her chest, but that pleasure was quickly overshadowed by guilt, leaving her conscience heavy and her mind reeling.

“It wasn’t because of you, don’t overthink it.” Damon’s slightly glazed eyes held her gaze, deep and unwavering.

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