What is Love? Read Free

passed before her. Ellen thought about the sharp
contrast between their lives and hers. Were they happy? She couldn’t imagine
it. Her stomach tightened as her thoughts returned to the night ahead.
    ***
    Sam caught her
reflection in the mirror as she spun round and faced the bar. She tilted her
head and leaned forward, allowing the bartender ample opportunity to take in
her beauty. He dropped his rag and stole a cheating glance before turning away.
    “Hey!” A clammy hand
tapped her arm. “I know you.”
    Sam leaned away from
the direction of the slurry voice.
    “You’re that
model … the angel with the wings above Time Square.”
    Sam smiled. She
couldn’t help herself. After all, Rebecca and Sienna were running late. And
besides, men were so stupidly easy. At least Jonathan was a
challenge—especially trying to get him to leave his status-hungry wife. But,
Sam always got what she wanted—and a filthy rich man married forty years would
be no exception.
    She turned to assess
the attentive stranger hovering over her. Tall. Decent face. Good suit. Cuff
links. Banker or stockbroker. He’ll be good for some drinks while she waited
for her friends. She caught his Harvard ring and amped up her smile. “Sorry to disappoint.
I have done some modeling … just not the sexy lacy stuff—”
    “You sure could,
you’re …” He drank her in. “You’re perfection.”
    This was too damn
easy. But it wasn’t her fault God blessed her with such talent. “I mostly do
hand modeling. See?” Sam posed her hand dramatically against her chest.
    His eyes locked onto
her breasts before breaking away to her hand. “You do have such pretty …
hands.”
    Fool. A bottle or
two of Dom for sure.
    ***
    Twenty minutes had
passed in silence, with Ellen preoccupied in her lists and Jonathan staring out
the dark window. As they pulled up to the Met, long lines of glossy black
limousines converged in multiple rows, swarming toward the entrance. Ellen
pressed the intercom and gave their driver instructions on where to park.
Pulling into the VIP lane, their car advanced and passed the other cars,
stopping at the red carpet littered with Women’s Wear Daily and Vogue
paparazzi.
    The animated noise
of the crowd and cameras flooded into the quiet limousine as the door opened. This
is it. My shining moment. The glamour. The compliments. All the attention.
Finally. She reached for Jonathan’s hand before stepping out of the
limousine. Ellen stood, waiting for Jonathan to link arms with her. She
smoothed his windswept hair. “Now darling, remember, there will be cameras on
us,” she whispered as she straightened his bow tie.
    Music cascaded down
from the radiant building above as they slowly walked the red carpet toward the
stairs, arm in arm, amid all the lights. Ellen smiled at Jonathan and gave his
arm a gentle squeeze, wanting to kiss him, the way they did on their honeymoon.
Those deep, passionate kisses that now happen only in her memory. At least
tonight, he will take her in his arms and hold her close when they dance the
first dance. And everyone will see their love. “Did you ever imagine it could
feel like this after forty years?” He gave her hand a comforting pat as they
continued up the stairs among their esteemed contemporaries. Leaning into him,
she relished his sudden closeness.
    As they ascended the
grand staircase to the museum entrance, she gazed up toward the Corinthian
columns and the glowing red satin banners draped across the formal line of the
Beaux Arts building. The historic museum structure, spread across nearly five blocks
of Central Park, was magnificent, and to see it lit with red crystal lights, as
Ellen had suggested, was breathtaking. Thousands of strands of lights, dripping
from the roofline and archways, shimmered beneath the cold night sky. The
building radiated a brilliant red as if it had been on fire and was now the
remaining site of glowing embers. Had she really done this? It was stunning,
beyond