But maybe they didn't. Maybe Sophie had hidden it from them the same way she'd hidden it from me for years—tucked it away behind smiles and competence and the careful performance of being fine when nothing was fine at all.
"I'm taking her back to her hotel," I said, my voice coming out harder than I intended, edged with something protective and possessive I didn't bother softening. "Alone."
Everyone around me got the hint immediately. Must've been the look on my face—the one I'd learned in rooms where hesitation got people killed, the one that saiddon't argue, don't question, just step back and let me handle this.
I regretted it as soon as the words landed. The sharpness. The command. The way I'd shut everyone else out without asking Sophie what she wanted, without giving her agency in her own crisis.
But this was Sophie. My Sophie. My one and only best friend who'd just broken apart in my arms on a bridge two hundred feet above water.
And she needed me more than she needed an audience right now.
Beth and Natasha exchanged a look but didn't push. Smart. Natalie nodded once, already turning to dismiss her staff with quiet efficiency, creating space without making it obvious, protecting Sophie's dignity without drawing more attention.
As luck would have it, a cab pulled up just as we hit the curb, like the universe had decided to cooperate for once in its miserable existence. I opened the door, helped Sophie in with a hand at her elbow, and climbed in after her.
"The Palmetto Rose," I started to say to the driver.
Sophie's hand grabbed mine, fingers cold and trembling despite the Charleston heat. "Wait."
I looked at her, really looked, and saw the plea in her eyes—desperate and exhausted and needing something I couldn't quite name yet.
"Can we go to your place?" she asked quietly, voice barely above a whisper. "I just ... I need some time away. To get over my embarrassment."
My chest tightened painfully. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about."
"I know," she said, but the words sounded hollow, automatic, like something she'd been told but didn't believe. "But I still need ... space. From them. Just for a bit. Please."
I squeezed her hand, my thumb brushing across her knuckles in what I hoped was comfort. "Yeah. Of course."
"Text your friends," I added gently. "So they don't think you got kidnapped."
She pulled out her phone with shaky fingers and typed quickly, the light from the screen casting shadows across her pale face, before leaning back against the seat, eyes closed, like even that small task had drained what little energy she had left.
I gave the driver Mama P's address, and we drove in silence through Charleston—past historic homes and palm trees and tourists who had no idea what had just happened, who were still having normal days full of photos and seafood and happiness.
When we arrived, Mama P wasn't home. The house was quiet, warm, lived-in in a way that felt safe instead of empty. On the kitchen table sat a plate of muffins—banana nut, still faintlywarm, the smell of cinnamon and sugar and melted butter filling the small space.
"You should eat something," I said, guiding her toward a chair with a hand at the small of her back.
Sophie shook her head. "I'm not hungry."
"Try, anyway," I pressed gently. "Your body needs fuel. Trust me on this."
She sat down slowly, like her body weighed more than it should, like gravity was working harder on her than everyone else. Picked up a muffin with both hands like it might escape. Took a small, hesitant bite.
Then another.
Then she was devouring it, like she hadn't eaten in days, like her body had suddenly remembered it needed sustenance and was making up for lost time with single-minded focus.
I grabbed her a glass of water from the tap and sat across from her, watching as she finished the first muffin in what felt like seconds and reached for a second before realizing what she'd done.
She looked up, bashful, a flush creeping into her cheeks. "I don't know why I'm so hungry."
"It's your body," I said. "The aftermath of the panic attack. Adrenaline dump. You burned through a lot of energy up there. More than you realize. Your body's just trying to recover."
I grabbed a muffin even though I wasn't hungry, just so she didn't feel like she was eating alone. Took a bite I didn't really taste, the texture wrong in my mouth.
And I watched her.
