LOGAN BLACKSTONE
When the driver informed me that Scarlett had refused to go to the mall, a wave of frustration crashed over me. Her family hadn't sent her any clothes, and she was stubbornly resisting a simple shopping trip. I was deep into an important meeting, determined to keep my personal frustrations separate from my professional duties. But as the day dragged on, my patience wore thin.
By the time I finished my work and arrived home, nothing could have prepared me for the sight that awaited me. Scarlett was precariously perched on a high ladder, dusting the top of a bookshelf in the living room. My exasperation flared. What was she thinking?
Before I could voice my anger, I saw her lose her balance. My heart raced as I sprinted toward her, managing to catch her just before she f
