Don, I'm Not Your Bet

After a brief, dead silence, the living room erupted.

"Betting on a wedding? And losing?"

"The Bianchi and Gallo engagement? That's not something you joke about!"

"Do you have any idea how exhausting it was for Seraphina to handwrite five hundred invitations? All of New York knows they're getting married. Now it's off, and how are we supposed to clean this up?"

A few of them crowded in, talking over each other.

The more they talked, the more heated they got, until finally they all turned to Julia:

"You're Seraphina's own sister. Say something. It was just a joke, not a real bet."

Julia sat in the corner, a wine glass in her hand.

Avoiding everyone's eyes, she swirled the red wine slowly.

"I wasn't joking. You all know I never joke about bets."

The air in the living room froze solid.

Everyone realized, this wedding was truly dead.

And for one simple reason.

Every friend at this pre-wedding blowout had met through betting on horses.

Our family had been in the "gambling" business for generations.

Horse race betting.

Every month, we traveled across the country to bet on races.

A bet made is a bet honored. That was our iron rule.

No one said another word.

I lowered my eyes and poured myself a drink.

"Lorenzo, what do you say?"

Lorenzo looked at me, a trace of alcohol softening his gaze.

He reached out and pinched my cheek, the way he always did.

"Seraphina, the wedding can still happen in three years. We've got plenty of time."

"We all came together because of horse racing. If we ruin everyone's luck over a wedding date, it's just not worth it."

"You understand, don't you?"

The answer I expected.

I could lower my head and swallow the bitterness.

When I looked up again, the smile was back in place.

"I don't understand. But I agree."

Lorenzo let out a breath, laughing softly as he looked at me.

"You seem to be in a good mood."

The mood plummeted. For a moment, no one spoke.

Then the living room door was pushed open.

A waiter stood at the entrance, wheeling in a three-tier cake.

Candles on top, spelling out "Happy 27th Birthday, Seraphina."

"Happy birthday!"

Lorenzo startled first, then, as if waking from a dream, began clapping first.

The pre-wedding blowout had absurdly turned into my birthday party.

A few rounds of drinks later, the private room was filled with the clatter of dice cups and singing.

I stood up and walked over to Lorenzo.

I reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a handful of candy.

"Why?"

Lorenzo smiled.

"Knew I couldn't hide it from you."

He stretched out an arm and pulled me into his chest, his voice a little slurred with drink:

"Julia would've had to drink all the wine if she lost. Her liver's bad. If it were you, you'd have done the same."

I turned my head and stared at him.

I wanted so badly to ask if he'd known all along what the bet was.

If that's why he came prepared.

But the words reached my lips and felt meaningless.

I threw my head back and took a long gulp of wine.

Suddenly, everything before me felt so damn ridiculous. And so laughable.