Charity’s voice broke through her haze, bright and teasing.
Mariella cracked one eye open. Charity stood in the doorway, hair tied in a messy bun, wearing shorts and a tank top, holding a mug of coffee like it was an Olympic medal.
“It’s almost four in the afternoon,” Charity said, leaning on the doorframe. “You’ve been dead to the world since morning.”
Mariella sat up, squinting. “Four? Seriously?”
“Yep.” Charity’s grin widened. “And judging by that glow, I’d say the cause of death was overexertion. Am I wrong?”
Mariella groaned, dragging her pillow over her face. “You’re so nosy.”
Melinda appeared next, towel wrapped around her hair, smirking. “She’s not wrong, though. You’ve got that look. The kind that says, I made questionable life choices… and I regret nothing.”
Mariella threw
