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EVERETT WAS SICK as a dog.
It started with a fever, which Sloane had misconstrued as his bedroom just being too hot. He began sweating profusely. Then his skin got paler. Sabrina would visit his room with medicine, but he would vomit it all out an hour later. No one could figure out what was wrong with him. Frank suggested calling his doctor, one of the best physicians in the city. But Sabrina said it was useless: "I have a tone of herbal remedies. I'll cure him. Remember when I helped you through that nasty stomach bug?"
For the first time, Frank looked wary of his wife.
Sloane was sitting in the living room for once, her laptop sitting atop a pillow on her lap. She leaned back against the plush cushions of the loveseat. The penthouse was eerily silent, besides Everett's sniffles echoing down the hall. She usually liked to write in the comfort of her room, but since the living room was completely empty today, she decided she needed a change of scenery. It helped more than she realized. The words were flowing out of her like a waterfall, recounting the last few days of news. If she kept this up, she was sure her article would at least be nominated for a Seldon.
The thought of winning suddenly had Sloane wondering what the future held. Her fingers slowly stopped tapping against the keys. Her relationship with Peter had surely thrown a wrench in the mix. She had come to Queens wanting to be out as fast as possible, and now ... she questioned if she ever wanted to leave. It wasn't just the sex anymore; her feelings for Peter were rooted deep within her. What was she gonna do when the article was finished and she had to go back to Vermont? She couldn't just leave now. But Vermont was her home. She missed her cat, her team, even Bobby.
Sloane began to bite the end of her fingernail out of habit, but her eyes quickly reverted away from the bright laptop screen when her mother emerged from the master bedroom. She walked from the other end of the hall to Everett's room, a vintage metal tray with glass vials in her hands. Some of the glasses were labeled, some weren't. But Sabrina seemed to know exactly which ones worked. She sent Sloane a surprisingly warm smile as she crossed the hall.
