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Nicholas is silent for a moment. I can tell he's trying to process what I'm saying, but he can't. "I don't understand," he says. "It's not you," I say. "It's me. This is all my fault." "Can you be more specific?" he asks. I don't know what to make of his tone. "I'm cursed," I say. "I'm bad luck." "Cursed..." he repeats. "I don't understand. You're not making any sense." "I'm sorry," I say. "I don't either. Not really. There's just some stuff I need you to know. And once I tell you, I'm pretty sure you'll hate me and never want to talk to me again, and I'm not sure I can handle that." "You're scaring me, Marla," Nicholas says. "But whatever you have to say, I'm listening." "I can't marry you," I say. "I wish I could, but I can't. It's not fair to you, and I just can’t do it." "Wha