This business won’t break me again. I can’t let it.

“Fine,” I finally say. “This better not backfire.”

“It won’t.” Trina can barely hide the glee in her voice. I hear a keyboard clicking in the background. My heart skips a beat at the thought that she might have had everything ready to send off and was just waiting for my approval. Is it out there already?

“Don’t worry.” She reads my mind again. “I wouldn’t send it with you on the phone. No one needs that level of anxiety.”

I breathe out a sigh of relief as my shoulders slump forward. “Thank you.” I lean against the counter and idly tap the pointer finger of my free hand against it. “What’s this new acquisition called anyway?”

“Anastasios Press,” she says distractedly.

I snort. “Like the Greek name meaning resurrection?”

“Like the name of its publisher,” Trina corrects. “But that definitely feels like a sign.”

“I don’t believe in signs,” I say as a knock sounds at my door.

“I ordered you a burger,” she explains. “It should be there now.”

My cold, black heart swells just a little at her kindness. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“If you had said no, I might have sent fried Brussels sprouts.”

“You ordered it before I said yes,” I counter.

There’s silence for a moment,

I open my door, and sure enough, a Styrofoam container is sitting on my doorstep. The smells coming from it make my mouth water despite the threat of Brussels sprouts. “Good thing I said yes, then.”

“I knew you would. I ordered it before I even called you. How do you think it got there so fast? Now, go eat. I have work to do.”

As we hang up, I’m filled with an excitement almost as pervasive as the rumbling in my empty stomach. If Trina thinks they’ll offer me a deal, she’s probably right. She’s never been wrong before, and I doubt her skills have diminished in the past five years while my own have been languishing.

It feels good to have a plan again. I basically wrote that draft on a wing and a prayer, but knowing Trina believes in it gives me some hope that I might actually be able to get back to writing. And, more importantly, that I might be able to love it again.

Chapter 2

Ryan

There’s nothing on my computer screen worth looking at. And yet, I’ve been staring at it for the past four hours, idly clicking on emails and opening documents only to close them and try something else.

Actually, that’s probably not true. I’m sure some of these manuscripts could be really wonderful books. I’ll probably even make offers to acquire some of them. I’ve edited some interesting books into shining stars over the past few years, but none of them have felt special.