When my marriage hits rock bottom, I escape to South Carolina to help my charming disaster of a stepbrother, Charlie—aka "the douchiest man in Manhattan"—fix up the decaying Southern mansion he's just inherited. But the house has other ideas. Doors slam, voices whisper, and something—or someone—wants us to be more than just reluctant roommates. An old journal confirms Charlie and I seem to be mirroring every step of a love story that took place a century ago. A doomed one. It’s like the past is bleeding into the present, guiding me toward a love I never saw coming. But all I’ve ever wanted is a family, and that won’t be happening with a man who once said he’d rather be murdered than father a child. Still, with each creaking floorboard and lingering touch, I’m not sure where my heart ends and the haunting begins. Is this something real… or just a ghost desperate to rewrite her story through us?