Beloved by Corinne Michaels Page A

clothes for today, I went for comfortable and cute. I’m wearing a black and white sundress with my black flats. I don’t know why I thought a dress would be a good option for being on a plane and going through security, but it doesn’t matter now. I’m ten minutes late and don’t have time to change. As I make my way outside, my eyes widen in surprise. Jackson is in front of my building, leaning against the door of a black town car sedan and smiling at my reaction.
    He walks forward, takes the handle of my bag, and leans toward me, handing me a cup of coffee. “Good morning, Catherine. You look happy to see me.”
    I groan and roll my eyes, taking the coffee out of his hand. He lets out a deep chuckle at my reaction and hands my bag to the driver.
    “Good morning, Jackson.” I turn and walk to the other side of the car, open the door, and whisper under my breath, “Yeah, oh so happy.” I hear him exhale in a short burst, almost like he’s laughing. I look back to see him smiling from ear to ear. Of course he heard me.
    He slides his big body into the seat next to me, taking over all the space in the car. We’re close. So close that his warmth radiates into me and his cologne fills my nose. He leans down, reaching for something in his bag, and his fingers brush the bare skin of my leg. Tingles shoot up my thighs at the contact. It’s too much for me.
    I scoot over a little more toward the window. Even though I’d love nothing more than to sit on his lap, I try to avoid touching him. My walls are going to come crumbling down really fast if I don’t keep some distance. I look out the window and sip my coffee. Smiling, I glance at him, surprised that he somehow managed to make it the way I like it. I was prepared for it to be black, not light and sweet.
    “How did you know?” I lift the cup.
    “I have my ways.” He grins and turns his attention to the file folder on his lap.
    I’m sure he does. I smile reply, “Well, thanks.”
    “You’re welcome.” He doesn’t glance up and I’m a little disappointed. He has this uncanny way of knowing my thoughts—maybe he’s trying to keep his distance so I’m not uncomfortable?
    I grab my iPhone and go through my alerts. We have about a thirty-minute drive to the airport.
    I notice the voicemail that I’ve been avoiding—my mother’s. She’s called eight times, but I keep putting off returning the call. She frustrates me, and lately I don’t have the patience to deal with it. I glance at Jackson. He’s engrossed in whatever he’s reading, so I decide to listen to it.
    “Hello, Catherine. It’s Mom. I hope all is well.” She pauses and I can almost hear her bristle. Her voice is filled with frustration. “I’ve tried to call you about ten times now, but I guess you’re ignoring me again. I’m not sure how to say this, so I’m just going to come out with it.” She lets out a deep sigh and goes on, softer now. “I got a letter from a lawyer. They sent notice that your presence is required next week at their office. They need you to—” Another long pause. “—settle your father’s estate. He passed away a week ago.” She sounds sad, and I can hear her taking short breaths as if she’s crying. “You were listed as his beneficiary and this was your last known address. I’m so sorry, sweetie. Please call me. I love you.” The line goes dead.
    I drop the phone in my lap. The emotions swarming inside of me are jumbled, all over the place. I haven’t spoken to my father in almost twenty years. I don’t know why I feel sad. I hate him. He walked away. He deserted me—never called, never cared—so why do I feel like I’m going to cry? What do I do now? I’m supposed to go through his affairs, settle his estate—I don’t even know where the hell he’s lived all this time. I drop my head in my hands and struggle to catch my breath. I’m so angry. I moved on. I forgot about him. I got over the fact that I wouldn’t have someone to walk me