The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 333

Chapter 333

Gemma’s POV

The question hangs in the air between us, a ghost at the feast of her reconciliation. Would she really just give up on Aronn, that talented, handsome chef she’d been so determined to win

over?

Aronn’s fine, and we can still be friends! Zina declares, as if that settles everything.

I look at her helplessly as we step into the elevator. “You’ve already arranged your entire future with him in your head,” I point out. “You can’t just downgrade him to ‘friend‘ with a snap of your fingers.”

She suddenly spins around, her eyes wide with a realization that should have hit her days ago. “Oh my god, I almost forgot! I promised Aronn I’d go sketching with him tomorrow.” The words tumble out in a rush. “But I have a boyfriend now, so it’s totally inappropriate for me to go!”

I just stare at her. Zina, who considers a stick figure an artistic achievement, going sketching? The excuse is so transparent it’s almost insulting. “But why don’t you just tell him the truth?” I ask, baffled. Aronn strikes me as a reasonable, kind man. He would understand.

Oh, no way. Absolutely not, she insists, her face scrunching up in horror. “This is so embarrassing. I can’t tell him to his face.” She grabs my arm, her eyes widening into a pleading, desperate look. “Gemma, how about you go for me tomorrow?”

The request is so absurd I actually laugh. “Who? Me?” I still remember the last time I got roped into one of her schemes to attract Aronn—a chaotic cooking show disaster I have no desire to ever repeat.

Gemma, you’re the best, she whines, turning on the

waterworks. “I’m too embarrassed! I told him so many cringey things to get his attention before. I can’t face him! Please, just go and apologize for me. You can explain it so much better than I can! Gemma, you’re literally the best person I know!”

This is her signature move: the full–force, no–holds–barred coquettish act. It’s a weapon she’s honed to perfection, and it usually works. But I’m not in the mood. I’m tired of her creating messes with her flirtations and then expecting me to play the dignified cleanup crew.

No, I refuse, my voice firm. “You need to find someone else. I am not going.” I will not be her proxy dater. I have enough complications in my own life without managing the fallout of her love life.

Zina’s face falls. She doesn’t want to be the “bad girl” who 2/8

stands someone up, and she’s trying to make me the “bad

friend” who won’t help her avoid it. “Just this once! Please! I’ll owe you forever! Anything you need in the future, I’ll do it, no questions asked!”

She’s begging now, her voice a continuous, pleading stream. Since she and Jeremy got back together yesterday, she’s been acting like a fugitive, too scared to even open her chat with Aronn. She told me she deleted all their conversations to avoid “unnecessary trouble,” which is just another way of saying she’s avoiding the consequences of her own actions.

I stare at her as we step out of the elevator and I fumble for my keys. Her desperation is a tangible thing. And it gives me an idea.

I do have a favor to ask you, I say slowly, turning the key in the

lock.

Zina’s eyes light up with instant, blazing surprise. “Really? Anything!”

The next day, I find myself standing in front of the KFC at the bustling amusement park, feeling utterly out of place. I’m wearing a pair of loose, comfortable wide–legged jeans and a simple T–shirt, a world away from the sparkly, date–ready gutfits Zina usually favors. I keep scanning the crowds of 378. families and couples, looking for Aronn’s familiar, calm face.

Zina said she told him to meet here. I’ve been waiting for ten minutes with no sign of him.

I pull out my phone. [Are you sure the location and time you sent me are correct?]

Her reply is instantaneous. [Absolutely right! I deleted the chats but I remember! Maybe he’s stuck in traffic, just wait a bit longer! Jeremy is calling, I have to go delete this chat!]

I sigh, shoving my phone back into my pocket. It is my profound misfortune to be friends with someone so chronically, creatively irresponsible. Deciding passivity is a waste of time, I take matters into my own hands.

I walk into the KFC, order a combo meal, and ask the cashier for a piece of paper and a pen. I scribble a few large, blunt words on it and prop it against the window, facing out.

Aronn, COME HERE NOW.

get a few weird looks from other patrons, but I don’t care. I settle into a booth and start methodically eating my fries, the salty grease a small comfort. I’m halfway through when a gentle, familiar voice speaks from behind me.

Ms. Marino?

I turn. “Mr. Slater. You remember me?” I’m genuinely surprised. A man who has to memorize hundreds of recipes and ingredients shouldn’t have room in his head for the name of his almost–girlfriend’s friend.

Please, take a seat, I say, gesturing to the space opposite me as I move my bag.

He sits, his posture poised and calm. “Is Ms. Patel…?”

Oh, Zina had a last–minute conflict, I explain, jumping right in. “She asked me to come and apologize to you.” I take a steadying breath. “And, Mr. Slater, she’s….. she’s reconciled with her boyfriend. So, she won’t be able to continue… dating you. I’m truly sorry for any confusion or inconvenience.”

I brace myself for anger, for disappointment, for something.

The next second, he simply says, “Ms. Marino, you don’t have to apologize. I was really just hoping to make friends with both you and Ms. Patel from the beginning.”

I am completely stunned. “What?” The words blurt out before I can stop them. “You didn’t actually want to be in a relationship with Zina?”

By the time I realize how blunt that sounds, it’s too late to take

it back.

Aronn offers a soft, understanding smile. “I have no plans to fall in love or get married at this point in my life.”

A massive, unexpected wave of relief washes over me. I was so afraid that under Zina’s relentless, if misguided, flirtation, he’d developed real feelings. This is so much simpler.

Mr. Slater, it’s a relief to hear you understand. Zina bothered you for quite a while, and as her friend, I truly am sorry. I hope we can all still be friends.

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