Moira pulled the heavy wooden door by its loop-shaped metal handle and blessed the owners of Chez Nous with a silent prayer. Not all buildings in Brazil possessed climate control, but the quaint adobe structure that housed the trendy restaurant was a welcomed oasis after her long commute in a car without air conditioning. In a tropical island, the word autumn did not mean the same as in countries in the northern hemisphere. A person could sweat like a pig sitting in traffic during the months of Brazilian Fall.

That had been the case for Moira. The AC unit in her car had been a goner for a while, but paying for her kids’ school and health insurance came on top of her priorities. She could always roll down the window and get some ocean breeze.

“When the air isn’t fucking stifling as a sauna, that is,” she muttered to herself, as she dumped her backpack on the couch at the staff room.

“That’s what you get for being stubborn, Moira Mathias,” a voice sounded behind Moira, startling her.

“Shit! You scared me half to death. I didn’t notice you were in here.” Moira offered her colleague as an explanation, when Karen Razzini’s voice made her jump and knock the carafe and spill water on a table set up with cookies, coffee and water for the staff. “And it’s Moira Romano now. It’s been so for a couple of years.”

“You’re more OCD than me with this cleaning stuff.” Karen handed Moira the paper towel roll and plopped herself on the couch.

Karen Razzini was Chez Nous’s bookkeeper. She was also Nelson Razzini’s sister. Nelson had partner with Tristan Knight and Noah Cartwright almost fifteen years ago to create the bistro. Their hard work had turned the restaurant into one of Floripa’s hottest gastronomic spots. Moira had been lucky Karen put in a good word with the owners when Bob vanished and secured Moira a job as bartender in the happy-hour shift, when the best tips stuffed the jars on the bar counter.

“What are you doing here? It’s not your regular bookkeeping day.”

Karen shrugged. “I had some papers for Nelson to sign, family stuff. Then, I decided to stay for happy hour. Who knows? I might meet someone interesting.”

Moira guffawed as she nodded toward the door, signaling for Karen to follow her. She needed to get the bar ready before opening it for customers. “More? Aren’t three boyfriends enough?”

“There’s always room for a little extra happiness in my life. How about you? I swear to God, when we were in high school, and you started dating Bob, he gave me the creeps. I told you that, remember?” Moira nodded, and Karen went on. “You went and married the guy right after we finished high school.”

Moira shrugged. “I didn’t realize he was a scumbag until many years later.”

“Speaking of which, is he still MIA, or has he grown some balls and started helping you take care of his children?”

“I’m fine without him.”

“No doubt, but I meant help pay for the bills. Tell me the house is yours, at least.”

“I filed for divorce based on the fact that he abandoned his family, leaving me without means of providing for our kids. The judge ruled in my favor and transferred the house to me.”

“Not the business, though.”

“Bob had a partner, so the business is different. It doesn’t belong solely to Bob, and I have no legal part in the business. My lawyer has been trying to get a judge to agree to force Silvio Fernandes to set up a fund for my kids with the profits that Bob would have received from the advertising agency if he had stayed.”

Karen scoffed. “I imagine Mr. Fernandes must have gotten thrilled with the prospect. Silvio and his bunch of dirty politicians love to throw money away.”

“Right? I really dislike politics, though. In my opinion, the only thing Brazilian government seems to excel in is forcing people to pay more taxes. Too bad the money doesn’t return as proper services.”

Karen squinted her eyes. “I couldn’t agree more, but you’re going off the topic, and I bet it’s intentional.”

Moira deliberate shrug was meant to offer no commitment either way.

Karen didn’t buy it. “We’ve stablished you’re better off without Bob. Fine. That doesn’t mean being alone. I ran into Frank Mendes the other day. He asked me if you were seeing anyone because you haven’t been returning his calls.”

Another non-committal bob of her shoulders, as Moira swept the floor. “We went out a couple of times after you introduced him to me last year. I liked him, but the logistics was complicated.”

Karen grabbed a beer from the fridge and returned to the table she had been occupying. “He’s a cute single guy who lives fifteen minutes away from you. What could be complicated about that?”

“How well do you know Frank?”

Karen hesitated. “He’s a friend of my boyfriend’s sister.”

“Meaning, you don’t know him that well, correct? I don’t either. I don’t want to offer access to my house to a man I barely know. I’m thinking about my safety and that of my kids. Frank invited me over to his house. I also didn’t feel safe doing so.”

“There are other options.”

“We went to a hotel, but it was just too much work.”

Karen shook her head. “I won’t argue this case. It’s done and over with. But next time, don’t give up so fast, hon.”

“That’s the thing. I don’t want to try again. It’s always too much work. I’m better off without it.

“What the freak do you mean by that? Too much work? Love isn’t supposed to be easy.”

Moira returned the broom to the closet behind the counter, so she didn’t face Karen as she retorted. “Who’s talking about love? I’ve no illusions, K. I’m done with love. I’ve had my chance at it and blew it. When I said it’s too much work, I meant sex. It’s just not worth it. I get by fine without it. Besides, I’m thirty-two years old, and I’ve got two kids to raise. Who am I kidding here?”

Karen gawked. Then, shook her head a couple of times, eyes glued to Moira’s, and mouth slightly open. “I’m trying to process a million thoughts at the same time. You’ve just spewed such a stinking load of crap. I don’t know where to start.” She stuck her index finger up. “One, you’re not dead. You’re just overwhelmed raising two kids on your own. Two, you’re young, beautiful, and smart. Don’t ever sell yourself short or doubt that you still have a lot to look forward to.” She raised a hand when Moira tried to interrupt her. “Please let me finish. Three, you didn’t blow anything, Bob sucked as a human being. Period. Four, who says we’ve got only one chance at love and happiness? And five, please, please don’t ever say sex isn’t worth the effort. You haven’t met skilled enough lovers, that’s all.”

“Said the woman with three boyfriends.”

“And a girlfriend.”

“Did Rosa come around and agreed to your lifestyle? Last time we talked, she had not accepted your proposal.”

“She’s jealous, which makes things a little uncomfortable sometimes. But she’s working really hard on that. And I love her all the more for it.”

“How about Roger, Matthew, and Paul? I have a hard time wrapping my head around the idea they know about one another and don’t mind sharing you.”

“Technically, there’s very little sharing.” She guffawed.

“Silly. I wasn’t talking about threesomes, or foursomes, or whatever number you prefer.”

“You’re doing it again. This is about your love life, not mine.”

Moira polished the counter top until it reflected the glasses hanging upside down above it. “I don’t have time for this kind of nonsense.”

Karen’s eyes got round as dishes, and her jaw dropped. If Moira were not so annoyed, she would laugh at her friend’s expression.

She was annoyed, though.

Ana Oliveira sauntered into the bistro, long red hair in a ponytail, wearing a flowered sundress that flattered her athletic figure and endless legs, and Moira welcomed the distraction. Maybe the arrival of the waitress would get Karen off her case and help her forget about Moira’s non-existent sex life. The subject often made Moira uncomfortable, not because she was a prude, but because it made her wonder why she wasn’t that much into sex. Not as much as most of her female friends proclaimed to be. Certainly not as much as Karen enjoyed sex.

I’m not a prude. I’m not uptight. The usual mantra went on in her head.

“Hey, ladies. Why do I have the feeling I walked into a catfight? Let me drop my stuff inside, and I’ll be right back. I want to hear exactly what you two have been up to.”

When Ana returned from the staff room, Karen didn’t give Moira a chance to speak. “Our Moira here has just told me sex is a nuisance she can’t be bothered with. Please, help me put some sense into this misguided woman.”

Moira rolled her eyes; but didn’t argue. Instead, she swept the floor some more, while Ana washed glasses and stacked them behind the counter.

“I can’t argue that point,” Ana replied.

“I’m shocked, Party Girl.” Karen feigned it. “I thought you’d be on my side.”

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I sympathize with Moira’s choices. If she’s happy, I’m happy for her, no matter what.”

Karen nodded as she fidgeted with a napkin. “No doubt. But, I believe a friend will point out behaviors that could be improved, if that makes sense. For instance, not going after the bastard who fathered her kids to demand alimony.”

Moira hid her flushed face inside the cabinet, as she swopped the broom for a mop.

Ana sided with Karen. “Oh, I second that. I could call my friend Nessa, if you wanted, Moira. She’s an investigative reporter, and a damn good one too.”

Sweat trickled down the bridge of Moira’s nose, dripping on her faded purple t-shirt, leaving a dark spot. The air conditioning couldn’t keep up with her friends’ grilling or the exertion from mopping the floor.

“Thanks, but I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“See what I mean?” Karen pointed at Moira and her stare locked with Ana’s. “Mules are less stubborn. Same with her ideas about sex.” She zeroed in on Moira. “Loosen up a bit, try a no-strings sex-fest for once to see if you like it.”

“Best kind there is,” Noah Cartwright agreed.