Olivia Wilde beelines for the sprinklers, a respite from the sun on a sweltering May day in Central Park. We’ve logged some 10,000 steps since meeting at the Alice in Wonderland statue, where the actor-director snapped a picture for her son, who just played the Mad Hatter in a school production. Walking briskly around the reservoir, past elderly bird watchers, teens taking graduation photos, and a runner in a bikini, we receive subtle glances: Even in a T-shirt and jeans, Wilde is striking in the way only a movie star can be, with wide eyes and sharp cheekbones. But I suspect people are not just ogling but trying to eavesdrop, because we’re chatting conspicuously about couples counseling, open marriages, and how having children kills your libido.
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