“Yes,” I said. “He’s coming.”
Natasha’s eyebrows lifted. “He is?”
“He said he’d need to wear boots and a hat,” I added. “But yes.”
Beth grinned. “I love a man who respects the assignment.”
I laughed, the sound light and unguarded. “It feels … easy. Which is strange. And a little terrifying.”
Natasha studied me over the rim of her glass. “Easy doesn’t mean shallow.”
“No,” I agreed. “It just means it fits.”
The words surprised me as they left my mouth.
Charleston heat wrapped around us, thick but not oppressive, softened by the breeze drifting in from the harbor. Somewhere beyond the hotel walls, the city moved on—tourists wandering cobblestone streets, church bells marking time, history humming quietly under everything. It felt like being suspended inside a postcard.
My phone buzzed on the table.
I ignored it.
It buzzed again.
Natasha glanced down. “You should check that.”
I sighed and picked it up. A message request.
Hello Sophie, this is Jax Moore with Channel 4 Charleston News. I hope you’re doing well. I’m reaching out regarding the incident on the harbor dinner cruise last night.
My stomach dropped.
I read on.
There’s been significant local interest after the video of you assisting a passenger went viral overnight. Internet sleuths identified you by name, and several viewers mentioned you’re currently in Charleston. We’d love to speak with you briefly—just to thank you and share your story, if you’re willing.
I stared at the screen.
“Oh, no,” I murmured.
Beth leaned over. “What?”
“I think I accidentally went viral.”
Natasha went still. “How viral?”
I scrolled.
Very.
There were clips. Comments. People arguing about angles and technique like they were experts. Someone had slowed it down, added captions. Someone else had called me “the Charleston Harbor Hero.” Another had asked if I was single.
I locked my phone and pressed it to my chest. “I hate the internet.”
Beth squinted. “You look great, though.”
“That’s not helping.”
Another message popped up before I could stop it.
