Chapter 2
‘Nelly,’ he says with a surprised warmth, stepping closer to the till like we’re old friends and not cautionary tales.
As I force out a smile, I grip a pencil so hard that it snaps.
He runs a hand through his hair. ‘I was passing by. Thought I’d pop in.’
‘Lovely,’ I mumble, avoiding his gaze.
When Miranda broke her leg last year, she hired Sam to help me. At that time, he was between bookshop jobs. Sam and I got along immediately, and I fell hopelessly in love with him from afar.
Sam made me want to believe in love. When we laughed and joked while stacking bookshelves, or when he held my gaze a little longer than necessary, he made all my worries disappear.
He used to write me funny handwritten notes and leave them in romance books for me to find.
Considering what I know about love, spending time in the bookshop’s romance section is challenging.
Sam’s notes gave me a new source of happiness, and being among romance books stopped being such a struggle.
To my surprise, Sam admitted he felt the same way about me. He did it through one of his notes. It read, I can’t stop thinking about you, Nelly xx. I remember my heart pounding wildly. He was watching me when I looked up. I blushed, and he smiled.
The rest of my shift was spent imagining what he looked like…
naked. My emotions were running wild, yet there was an undercurrent of anxiety.
I was worried about what I would see when we touched, and I was also agonising over something else that has been making me feel uneasy for years.
I don’t like to admit it aloud. Not because it feels shameful, but because it feels out of step with how life is meant to unfold.
I am thirty-three and still a virgin. I blame my teenage years.
From what I observed from the girls at secondary school, having sex seemed only to speed up one’s inevitable heartbreak.
When I touched the girls’ arms at school, I saw how their love would end.
Shortly after losing their virginity to their boyfriends, two of them would discover that their beloved boyfriends were two-timing them, and in Elaine Smith’s case, she would find out that her boyfriend mocked her body parts in his biology class.
This made me put an imaginary lock on my knickers and steer clear of sex and love.
Sam was going to be different, I told myself.
After a lot of ruminating, I concluded that being a virgin would work to my advantage with Sam.
What helped was remembering what Miranda, my boss and regular over-sharer, once told me her partner, Frank, likes to whisper in bed: ‘Can we pretend you are a virgin?’
From Miranda’s experience, being a virgin would give me added appeal. It could make Sam love me more. Later that evening, as we closed the bookshop, Sam reached out and grabbed my hand. I squeaked as I wasn’t ready for the monumental touch.
That was the crucial moment.
Until then, I had never envisioned a positive form of love. Everyone for whom I’ve had strong feelings – fancied or loved from a distance – had eventually hurt me in some way.
I held my breath and prayed to see a happy future for us.
The familiar flash of bright light behind my eyes made me gasp, and when it faded, I realised how our love story would come to an end.
I saw him and his ex-girlfriend caught in a passionate embrace in the back room of the bookshop.
I recognised her face; she was a regular.
Although Sam assured me they were over, I had a nagging doubt that they still liked each other.
I looked devastated, in my vision, standing in the doorway and watching them kiss.
Our love story would end with him cheating on me.
Looking back, I should have suppressed my emotions and told him I wanted to remain friends, but I got carried away.
I told myself that Sam and I were different.
He was going to be the exception. In a moment of madness, I convinced myself that breaking a curse was just a matter of maintaining a positive mental attitude.
So, I vowed not to flinch when I heard him mention her name, or question why she spent every lunch hour wandering aimlessly around the bookshop.
I ignored the painful reminders from the past and my curse’s unfailing accuracy.
Sam was the start of a new chapter in my life.
For three perfect weeks, we had passionate embraces in the back room before we opened, and we slow-danced after he’d put the closed sign on the door.
On that grey Thursday, the sight of him leading his ex-girlfriend by the hand into the back office caused an earthquake inside me.
Just like my vision predicted, I left the till unattended, sprinted into the back room, and burst in on them kissing.
After Sam, I vowed never to fall in love again.
I promised myself no more crushes, daydreams, or hoping.
‘You look well,’ he says, bringing me back into the present.
I ignore his compliment. ‘How are you?’
He raises his hand. ‘Married. She didn’t want a big fancy wedding, so we booked a registry office and became Mr and Mrs Clark. We’ve just returned from our honeymoon.’
My stomach plummets towards the floor. He married his ex-girlfriend. I force out a fake smile. ‘Well, congrats.’
‘You know I still feel guilty about how we ended.’
I can’t listen to this. ‘Let me know if you need any help, Sam,’ I say frostily. ‘The romance section is over there.’ I fake a quick check under the counter, so he won’t see my watery eyes.
Marcus’s girlfriend’s comment from earlier today echoes in my mind as I wipe a tear from my cheek. I know more about curses than she and Marcus will ever know.
In my pocket, my phone buzzes. I have an appointment with Psychic Medium Cynthia tomorrow.