“Wes. Are you sure you want to go through with the rest of your plan?” Cord slipped his jacket off. “With Kelsey no longer an issue, you don’t have to. FitMi can go back to being the distraction it always was before.”
“Absolutely.” I watched Mason set aside the damning evidence of Kelsey’s actions and skim the report we’d had compiled on HottrYou’s finances. As he concentrated, there was a moment when the smug smile disappeared. He’d come through for us time and time again. Pearl, who’d first suspected the culprit might be Kelsey, was only my assistant because she refused every promotion I offered her, preferring to wait until she finished her degree. Cord was rolling his sleeves up. When we first came up with the idea for the company, he was skeptical. He didn’t think he’d enjoy it and never wanted to be in charge, and now he was the one steering the ship. Looking around the table, I saw the embodiment of what Mason said about trust in organizations. Our organization worked because of the people around that table, and I knew I was making the right choice.
“You know, man, I don’t think I need the same distractions anymore.”
61
A LIGHT BREEZE moved over the endless sprawl of runners as we gathered together in the sticky September air. Three people near me joked as they adjusted devices and clothing on their Lycra-covered bodies. I stole a surreptitious glance at the women to my left—two tall blondes in sports bras and brightly colored running shorts. My cheeks heated, and I rethought the race day outfit I’d spent so much time poring over. I wore formfitting black capri tights, but I wanted to feel as good as I could going into this. I pulled on a moisture-wicking running top and wore a T-shirt over it, one I knew would remind me I could do it. I brushed my hands down the worn, soft cotton.
RJ: We’re here!
Kat: We’re so proud of you! Are you ready?
Del: Don’t forget to pee first.
I smiled, reading the thread.
Claire stood alone twenty feet away under the Body FTW 10K sign. Natalie had emailed me saying FitMi had identified the person who outed Wes from the photo and that it had been taken care of. I didn’t know what that meant, but I was sure it meant I’d been wrong about who it was. Like the blondes, Claire was in shorts and a sports bra, her toned body contorting as she stretched.
I looked back at my phone.
Britta: Already peed, ready as I’ll ever be, and I love you for being here.
Britta: I’ll talk to you after the race. Gotta do something before it starts.
I pulled up my mental big-girl pants and pushed through the crowd toward her as the heavy bass from the DJ rocked the ground beneath my feet. “Hey,” I said with an awkward wave.
She eyed me coolly, a nod in my direction.
“This is wild, right?”
Claire checked her watch. “I guess.” Her clipped tone made it clear we were back to being enemies, but I had to say something.
“Congratulations on your promotion.” Her lack of audible or visual response made this so much more awkward. “I’m happy for you.”
She arched an eyebrow.
“Fine. I’m super jealous, but also I’m sorry, okay?”
She straightened and crossed one arm over her chest, looking skeptical.
“I was wrong. It was unfair and out of line for me to accuse you of being the one who posted about the affair.”
“It was.” She switched arms.
“I was emotional and stressed, but that’s no excuse. I was selfish and judgmental.” My voice lifted, hopeful. “I was kind of enjoying being your friend, and you didn’t deserve that from me.”
She pulled her leg up behind her, considering my apology.
“You can take a shot back at me. Would that make you feel better?” I spread my arms wide, palms up in a universal come-at-me motion.
Her lips tipped up, and my heart rate slowed. “I’ll save it for later. And for the record, I never said anything about you and your coach.”
“I believe you.”
She eyed me again, narrowing her eyes. “You don’t want to hug or something now, do you?”
I laughed, the prerace tension that had been coiling all morning released. “No hugging. But we’re okay?”
“Yeah, we’re okay.” Claire eyed the people near us. “You ready for this?” Claire looked as unsure as I felt.
“I’ve prepared myself to come in last,” I joked, tugging the well-worn shirt down. “Anything better is a win.” Please don’t let me be the last one across the finish line.
A guy in a hoodie with shaggy blond hair and a tall Black woman with long braids cut through the crowd. “Britta?”
“I’m Britta,” I said warily. Since the race was sponsored by FitMi, I’d been worried all morning that someone would recognize Claire and me.
The man reached out his hand, and I exchanged a quick look with Claire, who shrugged.
“It’s nice to meet you in person. We’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Cord, and this is Pearl.”
“Wes’s friends?”
They both nodded. “I’m glad we caught you before the race. Do you have a minute?”
“Sure.” I glanced around, wondering if this meant Wes was nearby. I’d talked a good game, even psyched myself up to come that morning after almost turning back three times on the way to the train, but I was panicking. What if I can’t do it? What if I mess up and everyone laughs? What if I finish and everything still feels the same? As a swirl of questions twisted through my head, I knew if I could see him, talk to him, I’d feel better. I glanced behind Pearl and Cord but only saw more people in compression shorts checking their phones and jogging in place.
“First, thank you—you brought a ton of business our way.” He looked over my shoulder to Claire. “Both of you.”
“The last piece you wrote was so touching,” Pearl said in a smoky voice that made me want to listen to her read the dictionary. “It embodied FitMi perfectly. Our users have been sharing it and posting their own lists. Despite the initial scandal, you’ve inspired people.”
“Thank you,” I said, still unsure what they wanted.
“Our VP of communications will reach out to you after the race to offer you a job writing for us. We think you’d be a good voice for FitMi Fitness, and we want to start an online community. We’d like you to head it.”
“Is that a . . . joke or something?”
The two of them exchanged a knowing smile, and Pearl responded first. “Sorry, it’s just that Wes told us you’d say something like that.”
I pulled my arm across my chest to stretch, just to do something with my hands. My nervous energy was making me twitchy. “Wes . . . I don’t think, um. I’m not sure how—”
Cord held up a palm. “Before you answer, read this.” He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and glanced at his watch. “You have a little time before the race starts.”
I held the note in my hand. What is happening here?
Cord glanced at me, and his mouth twisted into a smile of recognition. “I like the shirt.”
“Good luck with the race,” Pearl said before they walked back through the crowd. After a few steps, she doubled back. “Keep an open mind. I know it’s complicated, but he’s worth it.”
“That was weird,” Claire said after the couple walked away. “What’s in the note?”
I opened it to see Wes’s blocky handwriting.
Bubs,
You probably feel like you’re not ready, but I promise you are. Get out of your own head. Take off your watch. Listen to our sweet Whitney Houston workout mix and push.
Pearl and Cord told you about the offer—I hope you’ll take it. You could do such good work at FitMi. You’re a talented writer, and you’ll help move our platform to the next level. We need you. I need you.
Keep stretching. It’s about time to start. You don’t need me in order to cross the finish line, but I hope you’ll let me meet you there. I’ll explain everything else after I get to kiss you again, if you’ll have me, that is.
I love you.
Now, go kick some ass.
Wes
“What does it say?” Claire asked, half-heartedly jogging in place. “Is it from your guy?”
I reread the note. I love you. “Yeah, it’s from my guy,” I said. “He’s going to meet me at the finish line.”