Sweet Solace (The Seattle Sound Series Book 1) by Alexa Padgett Read Free Book Online Page A

one of her nails. “He has a life. The one you wanted for him.”
    “I never said my life was glamorous, Jessica.”
    “I’ve known that for years. It’s a slow grind.”
    “Then why shove this on him now?”
    She met my gaze, her lips settling into that mischievous smile I used to find adorable. “I’ve talked to Dale.”
    “What’s good ol’ Dale up to these days? Besides banging my wife.”
    “Your wife. I haven’t been your wife in years, Asher. Long before we officially separated.” She laughed, but it was caustic, scraping against my skin and shredding my pride.
    “He asked me to marry him. And he wants us to have custody over Mason.”

5
    Dahlia
    G arcia was a thin , well-dressed man who gushed with flamboyant happiness about my grasp of emotional nuances. By the time I was seated in a brown leather chair in front of the gleaming glass-and-steel conference table, he was my new best friend.
    “I read the first book in the series at my son’s birthday party. My partner hasn’t completely forgiven me, but after reading your books, at least he understands why I was so captivated. He said to thank you for that bathroom scene. You sex kitten.” Garcia winked. “I’d totally do that if I was a woman.”
    I wanted to. With Asher. But more, I wanted to see his smile, to hold his hand. I needed him to ease the panic winding into a tight grip in my chest.
    I focused on how his hand pressed against mine, and my lungs relaxed. The clasp of our hands had been decadent, intimate. Perfect. I wanted to hold his hand again. Soon. I wanted more with him.
    Reconnecting with Asher Smith had pushed me over the edge, reminding me of the small, lonely life I’d been leading. This sudden rush of need left me raw, unsure how to proceed. Hence, my increasing anxiety.
    “So we see you in a producer role. I told your agent I want your input because your grasp of romantic tension is divine,” Garcia said, his smile wide, his manicured fingers steepled in front of his short, neat beard. “But we’ll need to see where you plan to take it—the final ending, you know, so we can set the tone. Paul suggested we might want to film the ending first.”
    “Of course,” I said, squirming in my chair. The ending? I had no idea how the series would end. I’d made notes, sure, about the next book. But since Doug’s death, nothing I wrote flowed. It felt stilted, unimaginative.
    Bad.
    I exhaled through my nose and turned back toward the director who was waxing poetic about another scene. We’d done many of the things I’d written about, Doug and I, before the symptoms started to manifest. He’d declined faster than his doctors predicted. Within months, Doug’s coordination started to fail, and he’d been frustrated with his waning strength. Our sex life was the first casualty. Not that it had been all that spectacular for the previous couple of years.
    I shoved my glasses back into place and then clasped my chin, forcing my attention to stay trained on Garcia’s thin, tanned face. My eyes felt gritty, too tired after another sleepless night. I didn’t have it in me to deal with my contact lenses this morning.
    Paul, the director, had remained silent this whole time, twiddling a pen. I could tell he didn’t want me on the project. He was sending out as much negativity as possible, trying to get me to agree to sell my rights and leave.
    I had two options: I could pretend Paul wasn’t bothering me or I could confront this situation. Panic fluttered up my throat, but if I wanted to be able to complete the series, I needed to take charge of my writing. That started with taking control of my life.
    I faced Paul, both amused and ashamed that his heavy features reminded me of a basset hound. His balding head and long ear lobes didn’t help, but it was his deep frown that sealed the connection.
    “Are you sure you want my input?” I asked. I slid my hands into my lap and twisted my fingers together. My knees began to bounce, but