To be so lucky {H.S.} ✔️

Chapter 1

"Do I really have to go to this thing? Can't Val go with you? Or anyone else, for that matter?"

"No. I want you to come with me. Also, you are well aware that Val positively hates these types of things!"

"Oh, right. I can see how I'm a better choice, then. After all, I am known all over the world for two things: my vast art collection and my perfect record at maintaining small talk."

"You'll need a lot more than sarcasm to get out of this, Nina. You promised."

I rolled my eyes, collapsing onto the bed, with a grunt.

"Don't you dare roll your eyes at me!"

"I am not..."

"Fifteen years, Nins! I've known you for that long. Not only do I know when you roll your eyes at me, even over the phone, I also know that you'll drag this conversation for a few more minutes, but eventually admit I'm right and come. Will you spare us both the lost time and just get dressed? I'll be at your place in an hour!"

Silence. I was acting like a spoiled brat, I knew that. Yet, somehow, I couldn't stop.

"It will be fun, Nins. I promise. Also, we both know you'll have to stop acting like a hermit, at some point."

"Wanna bet?" But she was right. I knew she was right.

"Nins..."

Ava was a royal pain in my ass, for sure, but I loved her. She'd been my best friend since first grade and the main reason I didn't go down the rabbit hole when my life fell apart, five years ago. Evidently, not being there for her on such an important night... It was unacceptable. I had to go, even if she'd told me that she didn't need me there.

Did it mean I felt over the moon about being stuck in an art gallery, making small talk to strangers, for hours? Nope. Snuggling Oscar on my oversized, hadn't-been-made-in-a-week bed, watching trashy teen dramas, sounded like a much better plan.

"Fine. You win. I'll go."

"Never doubted you would. One hour, Nina! Get your ass out of that bed and go get ready."

"Yeah, yeah."

She laughed at my flat tone and hung up the phone without a goodbye.

I wasn't about to start getting ready just yet, though. Laying in my bed, cursing myself for being such a whiny baby, and deliberately ignoring that night should be about Ava, not myself, was obviously a priority. Just then, as if he knew what I was thinking and agreed it was a great idea, Oscar jumped on the bed.

"I'm sorry, buddy" I whispered, stroking his fur, "Momma has plans tonight. We'll have to postpone our pity party for tomorrow night. Okay?"

He barked in what I decided was agreement, and I thought back to the day I got him, three years ago. I was single, unemployed, had put on over thirty pounds, and was getting fed up with people telling me how I was "too young and too full of potential to be giving up on life just like that".

Ava, the ever so patient Ava, had finally persuaded me to see a therapist, and it was him, Dr. Philip, who convinced me how great of an idea it was to leave town for a few days, to book a trip to somewhere calm and greenish (his words), somewhere I could mute the outside world and make a plan for myself.

So I did it. I dipped into my savings and booked a trip to Flores Island, a small piece of land in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, that most people don't even know exists. It's also my mom's birthplace, and even though she'd lost contact with pretty much everyone since she married my dad and moved to the US, we still own (well, I still own), a small stone cottage there. It sounded perfect, just what I needed, and definitely what the doctor ordered.