“Hey, Scar, remind me again where you want this box to go?” Maren calls out from down the hallway.
Scarlett’s mouth screws up to one side while she thinks, scanning the room. “Um . . .”
A small smile forms on my face. “Any day now, Scar. These boxes aren’t exactly as light as a feather.”
Scarlett shrugs. “Sorry, I don’t know. Just drop it in here, and we’ll figure it out together.”
Maren huffs loudly and grunts her way into the living room to join us, setting the box down with a loud thud. She wipes the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and glares at Scarlett.
“Next time, if you’re going to be indecisive, you can carry the box full of old trashy tabloids. Why are you lugging those things around with you, anyway?”
Scarlett ignores Maren’s little jab and continues organ
