“Fallon, your twenty-second birthday is coming up.” Isabella Marino’s voice was bright over the phone. “Have you decided which of your five fiancés you’re going to choose?” Fallon stood by the window, her fingertips grazing the sill. “I have,” she said. Isabella laughed. “I knew it. You've chased after Matteo your whole life. It's him, right?” “No,” Fallon said. “Not Matteo.” The line went quiet. “Then Nico? Gianni? Alessio?” Isabella asked. “They all like you." “Not them, either.” Isabella drew in a sharp breath. “That only leaves Eamon. ‘ “But you two have never gotten along. Tell me you’re not picking him.” “I am.” Fallon cut in. “Mom, I’m marrying Eamon Burke.” “What?” Isabella’s voice shot up. “Fallon, you and Eamon have been at each other's throats since you were kids.” “At five, you shoved him into the country club pool.” “At ten, you soaked his birthday cake in Tabasco.” “At fifteen, you tossed his limited-edition Air Jordans straight into the Central Park fountain—” Fallon let her mother rattle off the old crimes. A small smile tugged at her lips. “Last year you said you never wanted to see his face again,” Isabella went on. “Then he left for Switzerland the next week. So why him? Why now?” Fallon lowered her eyes. Because this wasn’t her first life. And in that life, she found out the truth too late. Out of all five men, only Eamon Burke had ever really loved her. But she didn’t know it before. … In her last life, she had stood in this very spot, brimming with excitement as she told her mother she was going to marry Matteo Moretti. She’d had no idea the eldest son of the Moretti family would fake his own death just to run away with another woman. She had been trapped in that lie for twenty years. The Marino family was old-money New York. Her mother, Isabella, had been close friends for years with the matriarchs of the Moretti, Bellini, Romano, Ferraro, and ......
