One of the HottrYou execs pushed back from the table, breaking the tense silence in the room. “Well, then. I think we’re done here, right?”
The rest of us stood to shake hands and share nods, but Kelsey didn’t move. I saw her press her nails to her palm once more, then stretch and link her fingers. “That’s it?”
The room stilled, and everyone turned to face her, silence hanging behind her question.
“That’s it,” I said.
She rolled her shoulders back. “Okay. Well,” she said, her cool and professional mask back in place. She stood, smoothed her dress down, and strode to the door. Before stepping out, she turned to me, an apologetic expression painted on her features. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, Wes. I wish things had turned out differently. It really was just business.”
Cord shot me a look across the table, but I didn’t need his warning. I actually believed her this time when she said it was just business, which made my reply even easier. “Goodbye, Kelsey.”
* * *
WHEN THE DOOR closed behind them, Pearl slipped in, eyebrows raised. “She’s a piece of work.”
Mason slumped back in his chair. “I kind of admire her. I’d be curious what it’s like to fu—” Mason stopped, catching the eyes in the room on him. “Sorry. I mean, what it’s like to work with her.” Mason pulled the folder he’d given to Kelsey back over and opened it, thumbing through things. “We should poach a few of their people before they fold—there’s some talent.”
“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.”