I tried to take a few deep breaths, but a stitch in my side made me press a hand to my body as I walked. “I think I’m dying.”
“You’re not.” Wes leaned against the machine, then offered me an easy smile.
“I am. And I’m leaving this world hating you.”
“Even though I made you a sick Whitney Houston workout mix?”
I chuckled despite my body insisting I curl up on the floor. “Do you think that phrase has ever been uttered before? Sick Whitney Houston workout mix.”
“She was a great artist. Addiction’s a bitch.” Something sad crossed his face for a moment, and then he shook his head, almost imperceptibly. “Anyway, running is easier with music to distract you.”
When the belt slowed to a stop a minute later, I swayed. Though I was on solid ground, I had the sensation of still moving, but Wes’s hand was there to steady me.
“I promised I’d catch you.”
28
WHEN WE SHARED Kelsey’s proposal with Mason, he nearly dropped his phone, something I never thought I’d live to see. “She wants to merge?”
“That’s what she said.” I settled into the chair next to him in Cord’s office. I’d had almost a month to roll Kelsey’s suggestion around in my head, and I hadn’t come any closer to knowing what to do.
Mason slapped his palm to the desk, his expression shifting to gleeful. “We have them on the ropes!”
“She suggested she come on as COO.” And she all but dry humped me while suggesting it.
Cord’s brows flicked up and he looked down. Not-so-subtle code for I already told you this was a bad idea.
“She’s leading a failing company. Why would she think that would happen?” Mason sat back in his chair and rolled his eyes. “Why not just wait them out?” Mason ticked his fingers. “We have the superior platform, we have the bigger market share, and they’re in trouble. We have nothing to gain from merging.” Mason cocked his head. “One upside is that you could train their existing coaches—that would help with our infrastructure issues.”
We’d had this argument before. “Their coaches aren’t qualified—you just ran an entire campaign based on that.”
“That doesn’t mean I believe everyone we hire has to have a degree in this stuff.” Mason adjusted his tie, his watch catching the light and shining in my eye.
Cord finally spoke up, cutting off our debate. “We’ll look into it. Is there anything else?”
Mason sighed, pulling his tablet from its position on the desk. “Best Life’s Body FTW has been like Internet gold.”
“Body FTW?” Cord and I asked at the same time.
“The name of the blog and social media project they set up. The chick reviewing our app and the one who’s reviewing HottrYou. It started out as them just talking about what they were doing and the apps, but now it’s become a thing. It’s all over social media.”
Cord and I stared at him blankly.
“You know you run this company, right?”
We shot him matching deadpan stares, and he tightened his jaw for a moment before evening out his tone. Mason held up his tablet to show us the home page. “They want readers to follow the two writers on their journey or some shit. We’ve talked about this. Anyway, huge for us.”
Mason kept talking, but I glanced at my phone and thought of Britta and her pretty face, red from the exertion of running but filled with pride, that look of accomplishment that painted her expression. When I’d started the Whitney Houston song for her, I wanted to bottle up how her expression made me feel, like I’d given her the moon and not a Spotify playlist.
“So, what do you think?” Mason’s voice cut into my thoughts.
“Sorry. What?” My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I hoped it was Britta. C’mon, man. Get it together.
Mason had spoken while scrolling, and I was glad he hadn’t seen my face. Cord eyed me curiously, though.
Mason shot us the look he often adopted when we were failing him as CEOs. The blank why-do-I-have-to-explain-this-to-you smirk that always made me vaguely ashamed and then annoyed. “So, you haven’t read it at all? You should—it’s driving a lot of traffic to us.”
“I’ll glance at it,” Cord said.
“I trust you and your team are all over the . . . Body FTW.” Just saying the name made me cringe. Who would name it that? “If we’re all set with that, can you see what kind of coverage we could get for this high school program?”
“On it.” Mason gathered his things and headed into the hallway. Before the door closed behind him, we heard him call out, “Pearl! Good morning!” and Cord’s eyes narrowed.
“Happy birthday, by the way. Want to get lunch?”
“Thanks.” I glanced again at the protein bar with the silly candle taped to it. I hadn’t opened it yet, liking how it looked on my desk. “Yeah, sure.”
“What’s really going on with Kelsey?” Cord thumbed at the file of information Mason had left on his desk, filled with projections and engagement demographics. “Got the sense there was something you weren’t saying. You looked like you were holding back a Hulk-smash kind of reaction when you told us what she said.”
“She . . .” I paused and looked around. I had done nothing wrong, but I still didn’t want Mason or anyone else to know. “She came on to me when she brought up the business proposal.”
“Seriously?”
“She implied we should get back together in addition to merging.”
“You haven’t been on speaking terms for years. What the hell happened when you guys had lunch?” Cord had been privy to everything between me and Kelsey—becoming friends, dating, hooking up, and he was one of the few people to know I’d planned to propose to her. He’d seen the breakup and all the fallout. “You didn’t sleep with her, did you? I’ve never had to ask you this about so many women in such a short time.”
I glowered at him.
“Can we get back to her wanting to go into business with us?”
Cord shrugged and dropped his chin into his hands. “I dunno. She’s smart, but she’s . . .”
“Kelsey,” I finished. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out. I had two missed texts—the first made me crack a smile; the second made my fingers twitch.
Britta: I hurt. I’m broken. I will never run again. finishes complaining How is your day?
Kelsey: Haven’t heard from you. Let’s talk more about my suggestions over dinner or at my place.
I dismissed Britta’s message and handed my phone across the desk.
Cord’s expression soured as he read the text. “Gonna go?”
“I should tell her I’m sending you instead.”
“I’d rather stick my dick in a pit of snakes.”
My phone buzzed in Cord’s hand, and I leaned forward to grab it but wasn’t fast enough. “Ooh, who is Britta?”
“Are you twelve? Give me my phone back.”
“BTW, I wasn’t kidding. I am sore from this morning. You broke me.” Cord read the text in a high voice and then smirked. “Damn. No wonder you’re not taking Kelsey up on her offer to hook up.”
“Shut up. It’s my client. I worked out with her this morning.”
His smirk faded. “Wait, the woman from the hospital? You’re still seeing her?”
“I’m not seeing her.” I grabbed my phone from his hand. “We’re working out in person. She knows it’s separate from the FitMi program.” I watched my friend’s reaction closely and reminded myself to specify with her it wasn’t part of the program. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It actually is. I trust you, man, but are you sure it’s just working out? You seem . . . different. Better, really, and I gotta believe that has something to do with her.”
“It’s just the gym, and yeah, I do feel better. You were right about picking up a couple clients.” My phone buzzed again on the desk between us, and we both glanced down. “Working on this project with the school, the thing for the kids, too.”
“You’ll tell me if there’s something I need to know about the woman, though?” The crease in his brow gave away his skepticism, but he dropped it when I nodded. “Okay. You gonna respond to Kelsey?”
“What the hell do I say?”
“You know I hate to admit Mason is right, but he might have a point about merging.”