Chapter 1

For three years, I’ve been Adrian Russo’s spoiled girlfriend.

I’m used to getting my way with him.

So when every gossip account in New York starts posting that Bianca Hale—Adrian’s first love—is back in town, I do what I always do.

I keep calling until, by nightfall, I’ve talked him into meeting me by the waterfront to watch the stars.

Except Adrian never shows.

The sky is empty, too.

Instead, a voice suddenly explodes inside my head.

“Are you kidding me? Nine lives, and I’m still stuck with this hopeless woman?”

I go completely still.

The voice is high, furious, and unmistakably childish. Then it gets worse.

“Bianca is Mom’s old friend. Dad already went to see her! And every single time Mom finds out, she loses it, goes after them, and gets herself killed.”

My hand drops to my stomach.

I’m pregnant.

I found out only days ago, and Adrian doesn’t know yet.

But there is no possible way the baby inside me is talking.

“Last time she went after Bianca, Dad shoved her during the fight. She fell, hit her head, and died before we were even born.”

My knees nearly give out.

Nine times. According to this child, I’ve already died nine times.

Before I can make sense of any of it, rain starts falling.

Cold drops hit my face and shoulders.

A black umbrella appears over my head.

Adrian stands beside me in a dark coat, his expression already impatient.

“Did hearing Bianca was back mess with your head?” he asks. “It’s raining, Claire.”

Usually, that tone is enough to start a fight.

Tonight, all I can hear is the baby’s warning: Adrian shoved me, and I died.

I step out from under the umbrella.

Adrian’s eyes narrow.

“You came all the way here to stand in the rain?”

“It’s hot.”

He looks at me.

I look back.

“In December?”

I swallow. “I like the rain.”

His grip tightens around the umbrella handle.

Crack.

The shaft bends in his hand.

I instinctively take a step back.

That only makes his face darker.

“Get in the car.”

He catches my wrist and pulls me toward the curb.

My heels skid on the wet pavement.

A week ago, Adrian would have slowed down the second he noticed me struggling.

Tonight, he doesn’t even look back.

Normally, I would yank my hand free and demand that he slow down.

The voice comes again.

“Oh no. This is where she kicks him.”

I stop breathing.

“She kicks him, he gets pissed, and he leaves her on the side of the road.”

My raised foot lowers immediately.

Adrian opens the passenger door and pushes me inside.

He pauses, glancing at my shoes before looking back at me like he’s waiting for the fight that never comes.

I sit perfectly still.

The baby goes silent.

Then, in a much smaller voice:

“Wait.”

A beat.

“She didn’t do it.”