"Natalie."
"I care about your dad a lot," I say.
She blinks once.
"That's not what I asked."
I swallow.
"Close your eyes," I say.
She sighs dramatically but obeys.
I rinse her hair slowly, buying myself time I do not have.
The question hangs in the room with the steam.
After a minute she says quietly, "Okay."
Which somehow feels worse than if she kept pushing.
I help her out of the tub and wrap her in a towel.
"Pajamas," I say.
"Can I still have ice cream?" she asks.
"You had three pieces of pizza," I remind her.
"Two and a half," she argues.
"You also drank half a soda somebody definitely wasn't supposed to hand you."
"That feels unrelated."
"Bed," I say, trying not to laugh.
Ten minutes later she is under the covers in her room wearing striped pajamas and fighting sleep like it insulted her personally.
Gabriel knocks lightly on the door frame.
"How was bath time?" he asks.
"I survived," I say.
"Heroic," he replies.
Maddie sits up immediately.
"Daddy!"
He walks over and sits on the edge of the bed.
"You look tired," he tells her.
"I'm not."
"That's exactly what tired people say."
