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.