Don, I'm Not Your Bet

At my pre-wedding blowout, my sister Julia Gallo suddenly challenged my fiancé Lorenzo, heir to the next Don of the Bianchi family, to a "big bet."

"Let me guess how many candies you've got in your hand."

"Guess right, and whatever my forfeit is, you do it."

"Guess wrong, and you're covering all the leftover booze."

"I'm guessing... five." She said.

Lorenzo opened his right hand. Three.

Julia tipped her head back to down the rest of the wine.

But then—

"You win."

Lorenzo pulled his left hand from his pocket.

"There are two more. Right here."

Julia smiled at him.

But tears shimmered in her eyes.

She unfolded the note she'd written in advance.

"Then I'm sorry. I didn't think I'd actually guess it right off the top of my head."

"Your wedding is postponed. Three years."

The room went dead silent.

Lorenzo just kept smiling.

"We've been betting since the day we first touched family business. When have we ever backed out?"

"A bet's a bet."

This wasn't the first time Lorenzo used me as collateral.

I looked up at the clock—past midnight.

My phone buzzed. A message from a familiar number.

"Happy birthday."

"You're not married at twenty-seven, you marry me. Still on?"

I replied:

"A bet's a bet. Three days, and I'll honor our deal."