Know Her, Love Her: Daisy & Belmont, Book ONE Read Online Free Page B

enduring the four-hour flight to L.A., I’m finally in Malibu. I’m back in Belmont’s and my house. I go to the kitchen and take a tuna steak out of the freezer so it can thaw before I head upstairs to change into a tank dress. Then I walk down the hallway to my office to work on travel plans. I start in Nice and Marseille.
    I email some of my contacts in those areas to see if any local festivities are going on in the next two months. It’s amazing how fast they reply. Of course they all ask the standard, “How are you?” I lie and say fine. I accept my old friend Javar Les’s offer to be my companion since he speaks six different languages. I also email Maya to arrange lunch. She replies immediately and asks me to meet her tomorrow in front of Abbot’s Habit on Abbot Kinney.  
    Time flies. It’s pretty late, but I’m starving. I sauté the thawed tuna steak with onions and spinach and put it on a whole-grain bun. Being alone in the house was easier before my trip to Chicago. To keep my mind occupied, I work as I eat. Two hours later, I take a quick shower and crawl into bed. I take deep breaths and force myself to think of nothing. Eventually it works, and I fall asleep.  

    The worst part of living in L.A. is the traffic. The best part of living in L.A. is being a native, which means I know how to navigate my way around the tough spots. One p.m. approaches, and freeway traffic is atrocious. After creeping south on Pacific Coast Highway, I exit onto Lincoln, which is fairly light considering the time of day. Other than a few speeding idiots, my drive is stress free. I park on Electric Avenue and meet Maya on the corner of Abbot Kinney and California Street.  
    I see her sitting outside the coffee shop under the green awning, tapping out a message on her cell phone. I haven’t seen Maya since after we loss Joella. Belmont believes she’s one person I should leave in my past. But Maya is the only person in the world who gets me.  
    When we saw each other last, she pleaded her case. “You didn’t love Adrian, Dais,” she said. “You never did. He’s the one for me. I’m the one for him.” She was as dramatic as an aspiring actress would be.  
    However, I had been forced to admit that she was right. It was a relief to share my true feelings with someone.
    “I knew you couldn’t carry on forever for Jack,” Maya said. “He’s one of those guys who has specific tastes, and you’re it. And that includes your goddamn issues. I bet you were miserable while you were pregnant.”
    I sighed. Only Maya could comprehend the depths of my despair. I poured out a lot of what I had been keeping inside over my Humble Indian curry bowl at Café Gratitude on Larchmont. Before parting ways that night, we’d made a promise to work harder to maintain our friendship, no matter what crazy things Maya did to fracture it.
    Maya looks up when I make it to the corner. She sets her cell phone on the table, pulls her long, dusty blond locks over one shoulder, and waves. I wave back. The light turns green, and she stands as I cross the street. I’ve never seen Maya in something so loose-fitting, but she’s seven month’s pregnant with her and Adrian’s first child.  
    “I know…” she says as we hug. “I look like a walrus, but you look hot as usual.”  
    “I don’t know about that. You look beautiful.”
    “I try.” She links arms with me. “Let’s go somewhere not so Venicey.”
    “But it’s all Venicey.” I chuckle.  
    “True.”  
    We head north past the small dress shops and art galleries. I tell her about my new job and my trip to Chicago.
    “You’re going to be gone for a while?” she asks.
    “Yes, but at least I’ll be on La Côte d'Azur for the majority of the time. It’ll give me the chance to put my life in perspective.”
    “Your life is already in perspective. Here…” She opens the door to a restaurant.  
    A huge bar is situated in the middle of the restaurant with tables on the