His half-laugh was similar to Logan’s. “I’ll try my best.”
I dressed in skinny jeans, a gray long-sleeved shirt and knee-high boots, looping a scarf around my neck. It was warm for October in Chicago, but not all that warm. Sunny with a slight breeze, and perfect marathon weather. Hilary said Nick had bitched about missing out the whole time as they walked with Logan to the starting corral. I’d met them just past mile four with coffees I’d grabbed for them at a Starbucks.
“How is he?” I asked.
“He’s fine,” Nick said. “He was disappointed you weren’t with us.”
Hilary smiled. “He’s just nervous.”
I couldn’t meet Logan as he made his way to the starting gate. I wanted that moment when he was running along and spotted me in the crowd cheering for him. I hadn’t been allowed to ask questions when he’d taken off the blindfold, and now he wouldn’t be able to either. Not when he was trying to break his personal record.
The streets were thick with people, but Nick knew where the best spots were for spectators, and his phone chimed with an automated text when Logan’s bib crossed the start so we had a rough idea of when to expect him.
“If he’s keeping pace, we’ve only got another minute,” Nick said. He looked through the signs Hilary had in her enormous purse, and selected one.
“Really?” she asked. The sign read: “I’m so proud of you, Snuggles.”
“Snuggles?” A grin widened on my face.
Nick shrugged it off. “I like to hold my woman close, what’s the big deal?”
We moved deeper into the crowd of people, edging our way up to the road. Runners flew past, and I watched in disbelief. They were going fast, much faster than I could ever run. They’d just done four miles, with another twenty-two to go. Insane.
“What’s he wearing?” I asked.
“White shirt, black shorts and hat.”
A whole herd of runners went by with women who looked like there wasn’t an ounce of fat on their bodies. The crowd was thick.
“Did we miss him?”
“There he is!” Nick pointed out in the distance to the wave of runners barreling toward us. He extended the sign out toward his brother. “Logan! You got this, man.”
Logan looked relaxed and focused. His eyes glanced at the sign in Nick’s hands and a faint smile curled on his face. I was vaguely aware Hilary was clapping and saying something like, “Go, Logan!” I thought I was clapping. Thought was difficult when our eyes met.
He didn’t slow down, nor did his eyes widen in surprise. An enormous grin burst on his face, and he was so handsome I thought my heart exploded. How could I ever stay away from him? Then he went past, his feet slapping the pavement in quick bursts, carrying him down the road alongside dozens of other runners.
We had to hurry to the next stop and almost missed him.
“He’s ahead of his pace,” Nick said with a scowl.
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“He doesn’t want to peak too soon and then not have enough to finish strong.”
Nick told him as much at the stop, and Logan nodded, his warm eyes locked on mine. He was sweaty, and gorgeous, and I wanted to yell at him to take his shirt off.
It was frantic going from stop to stop because Logan was moving so fast and the crowd was dense no matter where we went. He’d dialed it back too much at the third stop and had fallen behind the pace he wanted to maintain, which made Nick pull out the “You’re so sexy when you’re sweaty” sign. I gave Hilary a smile, letting her know I thoroughly agreed.
“Mile twenty-five’s going to be slammed,” Nick said. “You two go ahead and get a spot, and I’ll text you when I see him at twenty-one.”
The finish line was closed to spectators, so this was the closest we could get to see him finishing. We watched as a guy, younger than Logan, pulled off to the side and was eventually helped away by EMTs. How was Logan fairing? This wasn’t his first marathon, but still. He’d looked less relaxed last time we’d seen him, but Nick was also shouting out that he’d fallen off pace.
I was nervous for him, and once Hilary got the text, my nerves kicked up.
“It won’t be long now, he’s going to do these last miles quick,” she said. “I hope Nick can make it in time, but he fucking better not run.”
“Is it killing him not to be out there?”