Chapter EIGHT

MEREDITH

I sat beside Josef in the back of the enormous SUV, my hand clenched against the cool leather seats.

He was on the phone, making arrangements for our wedding and Franklin’s funeral simultaneously. Both of which were jobs I’d gladly allowed him to handle.

“Do you have your ID with you?” he asked.

“Me? Yeah,” I replied, glancing down at my scuffed handbag.

“Yes.,” he said to whoever was on the phone. “Prepare the paperwork and email it to me. I’ll print it on the plane. We will be at the airport in fifteen minutes.”

“Plane?” I asked, my mouth going dry.

“Yes. We’re flying to Las Vegas, getting married, and we’ll be back by tomorrow night. Did you want a wake and a funeral or just the latter for your father—stepfather?” Josef asked, his voice businesslike.

The way he said it made me wonder if he still didn’t believe me, but the truth was it didn’t matter.

It was the truth.