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
