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She raises her head, her sorrowful eyes hitting mine. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” Her shoulders slump as she walks toward me.

Grabbing her hand, I walk her to the Escalade, open the door for her, and wait until she’s buckled in before slipping into the driver’s side.

She’s quiet during the short drive to the funeral home.

We kept the service details private, not wanting to deal with protestors or trouble. If Carlisle wasn’t rotting in a casket at the moment, he’d have plenty of death threats against him.

No one likes selfish fuckers who steal their money, good person or not. People lost their entire life savings because of him.

A few cars are in the parking lot. I asked Darcy, Pippa, and Gigi to come so Genesis wouldn’t feel so alone.

I’m happy they’re here, giving her support.

When we walk into the funeral home, there’s a picture of Carlisle in the lobby. I guess the coroner didn’t go with my suggestion of putting Satan’s fucking picture there.

I made most of the funeral plans, and there were multiple reasons I chose a closed casket.

Carlisle shot himself in the head. No matter how good the mortician, it’s hard to cover that shit up.

Second, I saw how horrified Genesis was at her dad’s dead body in the office. I didn’t want her to feel that same pain again.

And last, I knew it’d give me the temptation to shoot him in the head because I never got the chance to. The fucker deserves a bullet from me after what he did to Genesis.

The room is eerily quiet, with the exception of Frank Sinatra’s “My Way” playing through the speakers. The same picture that’s in the lobby is displayed on an easel beside the black casket.

The women are inside the room, seated in the second row, with Damien and Antonio in the row behind them. As soon as they notice Genesis and me, they jump up from the chairs and rush toward her.

Darcy hugs her first, apologizing for being gone for too long.

Pippa wraps her in her arms tight, telling her she’s sorry for her loss.

When it’s Gigi’s turn, she simply plants a soft kiss on her cheek.

Surprisingly, I haven’t seen Genesis cry once today.

She’s sniffled a few times, but that’s it.

It’s so different from my family’s funeral.

She bawled in the front row, sobbing, with red eyes and a handful of tissues.

Genesis sits in the front row, and I take the seat beside her as the priest enters the room. He doesn’t speak long, just goes on with his speech about Carlisle making his gateway to heaven, to which I have to hold myself back from correcting him to say that it was a fast track straight to motherfucking hell.

When he asks if anyone would like to say a word, no one volunteers. He apologizes for our loss once more before leaving the same way he came in.

This is the shortest funeral I’ve ever gone to.

And I’ve attended plenty.

I wish I could say I hadn’t since my family’s, but unfortunately, there have been so many that I’ve lost count.

Death will always be inevitable.

One day, all of us will die.

In this life, the men die younger.

There’s one in ten odds of us living until we’re gray and old.