By the time we stumbled back to safety, the exhaustion of the day had set in, along with a deep satisfaction. I had forgotten the ups and downs that could occur after spending a day with my family. And, yes, we’d annoyed one another, but we ended up sharing an experience we’d be able to laugh at in the days to come. I was just sifting through the realization that this trip had been a good idea after all, when my daughter let out a gasp of shock and stopped still in the lobby. Her gaze was trained on her phone.

“Oh my God.”

My heart stopped. “What is it? Did someone you know die?”

She slowly shook her head, eyes wide. “Something tells me you’re not going to like technology anymore, Mom.”

A strange foreboding washed over me. “What are you talking about? What are you looking at?”

My mother leaned over to peek at her phone. Her hand flew to her mouth. “You taped your mother falling down the stairs?”

“No! But someone must’ve, and then they uploaded it and—” She trailed off, biting her lip. Her features screwed up with worry. “It went kind of viral.”

A roaring in my ears registered. I stretched out my trembling hand and she placed the phone in my palm. It was opened to Instagram.

FUNNY FALL AT SPANISH STEPS! the caption screamed, with a long line of emojis and hashtags. I watched myself in full, vivid color as my foot slipped and I tumbled down the stairs. My ass bounced, my mouth was open in a wide O, and my face had a weird, horrified expression—kind of like that scary painting The Scream. I heard the collective gasps and titters from the crowd, and then I lay in a heap on the bottom step, like a baby giraffe who was just learning to walk. I watched Enzo sweep me up into his arms and carry me away. He was the epitome of the classic Disney prince saving the fallen damsel in distress.

“This is not happening,” I whispered. “It’s not that funny.”

“I think everyone liked Enzo’s reaction,” Allegra pointed out. “Look at the comments. They think he’s very romantic.”

She was right. The comments went on about how he tried to whisk me away from danger and that men like him no longer exist. People tagged their friends, and it morphed into a discussion of Italian versus American men. Like a snowball effect, it began to take on a life of its own.

It had already racked up more than ten thousand views.

My chest tightened and I tried not to panic. What if my clients saw this? My employees? I’d already lost the lead on an important account over the panic attack. No one wanted to hire a woman who inspired a ridiculous meme or viral video.