going to tell me what’s happening on this date?”
Lucy laughed. “I’ll drop a few details if you want me to. I mean, that way, she gets to have her little fantasy, and you get to have yours, right?”
“Right. That does sound fair. So what’s she planning to do tonight? They’re going to the Met for a concert—I know that, she told me straight after her last date. Are they going to sleep together after that?”
Lucy shook her head. “She told me it was too soon for that. She’s not ready to go all the way, not tonight.”
“And if she goes into his bedroom, she might be tempted,” he nodded. “She’ll want to take things slowly, knowing Maddie. Cautiously. On their first date, they were kissing in doorways, she said. Couldn’t get their hands off each other. But no more than that. So maybe something more will happen when he takes her home this time.”
“You won’t get to see her if it’s in a taxi.”
“The concert’s at the Met—so maybe they’ll feel like a late-night stroll through Central Park after the symphony’s over—how late does it stay open?”
Lucy fumbled with her smartphone a moment or two. “One.”
“You think we might see something if we’re lucky?”
Lucy smiled knowingly, and Hugo couldn’t help but think he was being set up for something. He said quietly: “You’re going to turn me into her own personal stalker.”
“I’m not sure it’ll be that bad. Besides, I’m not sure you’re allowed to call them stalkers any more. Obsessive American, I believe is the acceptable label,” Lucy grinned. “And you’re her beloved husband, you’re allowed to be obsessive.”
*
The taxi took them up 10th Avenue and then Amsterdam, and promptly snarled up in traffic when it came time to thread through the narrow W81 St over to the transverse across Central Park.
Halfway through the park, Hugo was quietly suggesting they bale out and proceed the final part of the way on foot.
“We have time,” Lucy insisted, and Hugo gave her a sharp glance that questioned whether she knew more than she was saying about Madeleine and her plans for the evening.
“The music’s only 45 minutes long.”
Lucy shook her head, “The program’s ninety minutes—they’re doing a few other numbers as well.”
Hugo nodded. “God, it’s so random. There’s no way we’ll find them at a place as huge as the Met.”
The taxi dropped them off on the corner of 5th, so they could walk the short distance up the avenue to the museum. Hugo felt himself shivering a little, though it actually wasn’t too cold considering the time of year.
“Do you feel bad—that you’re allowing her the freedom to see other guys, but you don’t get to date other women?” Lucy asked him, almost as though she was trying to keep his mind occupied, distracted from the nervous tension running through him.
“Actually, not at all,” he said. “It seems weird, doesn’t it? Ten years ago, my biggest fantasy was having sex with more than one woman. Now, though, I’m just in a different place.”
“Wait, you don’t fantasize about having sex with two women at once any more?”
He shrugged. “Not really. I’m more likely to imagine that Madeleine is one of the women, and the guy is some stranger—but I get to watch.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah, it’s not for everyone.”
“Have you guys ever talked about any limits on what she does?”
“She knows my biggest fear is that she’ll fall for someone else. But I really don’t want to restrict her—it has to be her choice in this.”
“Seriously. I have got to get me a husband like you.”
As they came to the museum’s iconic façade, Hugo’s heart was beating double-quick time again, his breathing becoming shallow in anticipation of what they might see. Would they notice a lone couple exiting the building, descending the broad stone stairs down to street level?
Lucy indicated that they should sit on the top step, on the south side, where they
Lucy laughed. “I’ll drop a few details if you want me to. I mean, that way, she gets to have her little fantasy, and you get to have yours, right?”
“Right. That does sound fair. So what’s she planning to do tonight? They’re going to the Met for a concert—I know that, she told me straight after her last date. Are they going to sleep together after that?”
Lucy shook her head. “She told me it was too soon for that. She’s not ready to go all the way, not tonight.”
“And if she goes into his bedroom, she might be tempted,” he nodded. “She’ll want to take things slowly, knowing Maddie. Cautiously. On their first date, they were kissing in doorways, she said. Couldn’t get their hands off each other. But no more than that. So maybe something more will happen when he takes her home this time.”
“You won’t get to see her if it’s in a taxi.”
“The concert’s at the Met—so maybe they’ll feel like a late-night stroll through Central Park after the symphony’s over—how late does it stay open?”
Lucy fumbled with her smartphone a moment or two. “One.”
“You think we might see something if we’re lucky?”
Lucy smiled knowingly, and Hugo couldn’t help but think he was being set up for something. He said quietly: “You’re going to turn me into her own personal stalker.”
“I’m not sure it’ll be that bad. Besides, I’m not sure you’re allowed to call them stalkers any more. Obsessive American, I believe is the acceptable label,” Lucy grinned. “And you’re her beloved husband, you’re allowed to be obsessive.”
*
The taxi took them up 10th Avenue and then Amsterdam, and promptly snarled up in traffic when it came time to thread through the narrow W81 St over to the transverse across Central Park.
Halfway through the park, Hugo was quietly suggesting they bale out and proceed the final part of the way on foot.
“We have time,” Lucy insisted, and Hugo gave her a sharp glance that questioned whether she knew more than she was saying about Madeleine and her plans for the evening.
“The music’s only 45 minutes long.”
Lucy shook her head, “The program’s ninety minutes—they’re doing a few other numbers as well.”
Hugo nodded. “God, it’s so random. There’s no way we’ll find them at a place as huge as the Met.”
The taxi dropped them off on the corner of 5th, so they could walk the short distance up the avenue to the museum. Hugo felt himself shivering a little, though it actually wasn’t too cold considering the time of year.
“Do you feel bad—that you’re allowing her the freedom to see other guys, but you don’t get to date other women?” Lucy asked him, almost as though she was trying to keep his mind occupied, distracted from the nervous tension running through him.
“Actually, not at all,” he said. “It seems weird, doesn’t it? Ten years ago, my biggest fantasy was having sex with more than one woman. Now, though, I’m just in a different place.”
“Wait, you don’t fantasize about having sex with two women at once any more?”
He shrugged. “Not really. I’m more likely to imagine that Madeleine is one of the women, and the guy is some stranger—but I get to watch.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah, it’s not for everyone.”
“Have you guys ever talked about any limits on what she does?”
“She knows my biggest fear is that she’ll fall for someone else. But I really don’t want to restrict her—it has to be her choice in this.”
“Seriously. I have got to get me a husband like you.”
As they came to the museum’s iconic façade, Hugo’s heart was beating double-quick time again, his breathing becoming shallow in anticipation of what they might see. Would they notice a lone couple exiting the building, descending the broad stone stairs down to street level?
Lucy indicated that they should sit on the top step, on the south side, where they
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