Free One Small Chance: a novella (a Love Story from Portugal) by Lucinda Whitney

and I was disappointed in myself that I stayed with him for that long. Live and learn, right?
    Since then, I haven’t met many guys, but I must confess I’m not trying too hard to go out and meet them. It’s so much work! My friend says I’m not putting any effort into it and she’s right. Maybe I’ll try online dating instead. What do you think? Not all guys are as easy to talk to as you are but maybe not meeting in person takes the pressure off a bit.
    I’m always talking about bravery, as long as it’s others being brave. Maybe it’s time I try something brave myself. I could go out and strike up a conversation with a guy. Or maybe I’ll try to be nice to someone I already know. Or I could set up a profile on a dating site.
    In other news, I started rereading Harry Potter. I want to know if it’s as great as I found it to be when I was in school. I hope it is.
    Your rambling friend,
    Amélie

 
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER TEN
     
     
     
    Pizza night. Cristina had come up with the idea one time after a long day at the academy, and Isabel had offered to host it. The new part for the oven had finally showed up and the technician had repaired it with two days to spare. Isabel had made the dough in the morning and had it rolled out in floured baking sheets. The shrimp waited in the pan for a last minute sauté and the vegetables and other toppings were arranged on the counter in square ceramic bowls.
    Cristina arrived with her boyfriend, Armando, who held a canvas bag with glass bottles in his hand. Isabel let them in and they followed her to the kitchen.
    “I’ll warm the oven.” Isabel turned the knob and slid the stone slab inside.
    It was Armando’s first time at the apartment. He sat on the sofa and clicked the TV on low volume. Isabel didn’t know him very well but, from Cristina’s comments, he seemed like a nice guy.
    Cristina placed the bottles in the refrigerator. “I hope you don’t mind, we brought a bottle of dry white wine along with the sparkling water and the Sumol.”
    Isabel wiped her hands on the apron. “As long as you take the leftovers with you.”
    “If there are any, we will.” Cristina gestured to her boyfriend. “Mando wanted to bring two bottles so I explained to him why you don’t drink.”
    The doorbell rang. Isabel raised her head from spreading the white garlic sauce on the surface of the first pizza. “I’m not expecting anyone else.” She rarely had anyone knocking this late in the evening.
    Cristina rose from the bar stool at the counter. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I invited Simon Ackerley to join us for pizza night.”
    Isabel stilled. “You did what?”
    “You left early, and I saw him in his office all alone. I asked him what he was doing tonight and he said nothing, so I gave him your address and told him to come.”
    Cristina walked out the kitchen door and Isabel jogged after her. “Why would you do that? You know I don’t like him.”
    “You don’t mean that, Isabel. We both know it. I’ve seen the way you look at him.” Cristina reached for the door handle.
    This was not happening. Isabel took a deep breath. “He’s after my job, you know that. That pretty much makes him my enemy.” Maybe enemy was a strong word but that didn’t mean he had to come over.
    They stopped when the bell rang a second time. Isabel leaned against the peephole. The red hair. It was him, indeed.
    Cristina glared at her. “Well, he’s on the other side of this door. If you don’t want him here, you tell him that.” Then she walked toward the living room.
    At least he didn’t speak Portuguese, or he would have heard the whole conversation. He wasn’t even inside yet and already it was awkward.
    She unlocked the door and opened it. “Mr. Ackerley.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “I mean, Simon. Hi.” She brightened her voice, hopefully not so much that it sounded fake. “Sorry for the wait.”
    He still wore the caramel pants, but his sleeves were rolled up to