September 22, 1944

“You look divine, Genevieve,” Frank compliments, his gaze quickly scouring my body as I make my way down the stairs where he, John, and Sera wait in the foyer.

After the small dance in the living room, John led me up to our bedroom and presented another gift to me: a beautiful cherry-red evening gown. He said it reminded him of my lips, and he couldn’t bear to not see me in it.

The top half features a sweetheart neckline, accentuating the swell of my breasts. A sparkling jewel pinches the straps right above them, leading up to cap sleeves that barely fall past my shoulders. The soft silk bodice hugs my curves tightly and tapers down to a beautiful lace skirt encrusted with thousands of tiny faux gems.

The dress itself is incredibly rare. Most resources are going toward the war, so the government implemented rations on many things, including fabric for civilians. Inevitably, attire has become very simple. Seeing a dress with this much detail, this much material—I have no idea how John pulled it off.

Even finding a new men’s suit is nearly unheard of these days, yet next to my dress was exactly that: a three-piece black suit, the fabric high-quality and surely expensive.

He insisted we had stamps to spare from our ration book and found the clothes hiding in a boutique for a discounted price, but I don’t believe that for a second. The man just told me we’re debt free yet brings home clothing that surely puts us right back in it!

When I had asked him where we were going, he simply placed a kiss on my nose and told me to get ready. Then he took his black suit and left to change in a spare bedroom, citing that he wanted to be surprised when I finished getting dolled up.

“My God, Gigi, you are an absolute vision,” John breathes, stepping forward and inadvertently shoving his friend aside.

I offer them a wide, appreciative smile, praying that my red lipstick hides the tremble in my bottom lip.

Dread has formed in the pit of my stomach, and I’m afflicted by a deep sense of foreboding. Whether it’s the extravagant clothing or the secretive location, I’m on edge.

John offers me his hand and I take it, wearing red elbow-length gloves that match the silk of my dress. They provide the final touch to an elegant ensemble. Thankfully, he didn’t splurge further on shoes, so I slipped on a pair of black heels.

He escorts me down the last few steps, my black clutch hanging from my arm. I made sure to stash my lipstick and powder in there in case I need an excuse to run off to the ladies’ room for a moment alone.

“Holy cow, Mama, you look beautiful,” Sera gushes. I release John’s hand to wrap her in a hug, desperately needing to feel her warmth. Some days, she feels like the only thing that will get me through. She’s getting awfully tall, too, and it pains me that she’s growing up so fast.

“I assume you have plans tonight, too?” I ask.

She nods eagerly, tilting her chin up and resting it on my chest, peering up at me with beautiful cinnamon-brown eyes. Such a unique shade, one she inherited from her father.

“I’m seeing a film with Martha and Greta tonight. Daddy gave me a couple extra dimes and said I could even get ice cream after.”

I smile and raise a playful brow, imitating a sardonic expression. “A few extra dimes, huh? You don’t say. And how are you getting there and back?”

“Martha’s daddy is coming to get me at six. We’ll walk to the icecream parlor after the film and then I’ll stay the night with them. He’ll bring me home tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, sweetie. You have fun tonight, okay?” I place a soft kiss on the tip of her button nose, hating that I’m not seeing a film and eating ice cream with her. “And don’t stay up too late, you hear me?”

She wrinkles her nose and grumbles her agreement, though I know better than to believe it. Martha has stayed with us many nights, and the two girls are always up all night giggling.

I’d much rather spend time with Sera than go to some fancy event. She’ll always be my daughter, but sometimes life can be cruel, and there could be a day where tragedy strikes, and I won’t get those moments with her anymore. I want to soak them up as much as I can.

“Are you ready, my love?” John asks, prompting me to release her.

I nearly choke on the spit I had been swallowing at that moment. My love. I can’t recall a time John has ever referred to me as such, yet he chooses now to do so. It doesn’t have the same effect after hearing that endearment fall from another man’s lips. In fact, it makes me sick to my stomach to hear it come from my husband’s mouth.

Clearing my throat softly, I force cheerfulness into my tone as I say, “Yes, though I would love to know where you two dreamboats are taking me.”

Truthfully, I hardly noticed how John looks in his new suit, but now that I give him and his friend a cursory glance, the two look awfully dapper.

There’s a slight stiffness in Frank’s shoulders, and as soon as the question leaves my lips, he shoots my husband a poorly disguised, disgruntled look.

“We’re running late, dear,” John deflects. “I’ll tell you on the way.”

I narrow my eyes, recognizing his strategy for what it is. He wants to get me in the car where I can’t escape before he breaks the news.

It only adds oxygen to the fire, and the anxiety burning a hole in my stomach flares.

I hesitate but ultimately give one more farewell kiss to Sera’s nose and follow him out of the house, allowing them to sweep me away.