Staring no further than the Prologue, my mind already fought with itself about what I'd do next.
I ran my hand over the mouse of my computer, watching the screen buzz to life from the corner of my eye as I gazed down at the manuscript.
My stomach rumbled, and I knew I'd have to leave for lunch soon, but I felt like this thick booklet of paper was a part of the girl I'd lost, and I didn't want it to go anywhere.
I wanted to read what she'd said. I wanted to know if the story she'd written was the story of us.
But I didn't even know if it was her.
Only one way to find out.
I flicked to the back of the manuscript, glancing at the last page for any contact information.
Of course, there was no name, no address, no nothing.
Nothing except an email address.
Quickly popping open a new email screen, I wrote out a quick message and hit send before my mind could tell me not to, thanking God that I was simply the fifth Senior Editor at the Masen Publishing House, and I wasn't Edward Cullen.
Not until I needed to be anyway.
From: MasenPublishing05
To: Bookworm17
Hi there, I'm the Senior Editor looking over your manuscript.
I must ask, how long did it take you write this?
Sincerely, Senior Editor 5, Masen Publishing House.
