I look at the chair. Then at Joanna, who's clearly trying not to laugh.
"I don't think I'll fit in that chair, sweetheart," I say.
Daisy frowns, considering the problem. "You can sit on the floor then. That's what Mama does when we color together."
"The floor works."
I lower myself down, my knees practically to my chest even sitting cross-legged. Daisy plops down across from me and starts sorting through crayons with intense concentration.
"This is sparkle purple," she says, holding up a crayon that does indeed have glitter in it. "And this is sparkle pink. And this is sparkle gold but it's my favorite so you have to be really careful with it."
"I'll be very careful."
She hands me the gold crayon like she's bestowing a great honor. Then she pushes a coloring book toward me: princess-themed, naturally.
"You can color that one." She points at a princess with a big puffy dress. "I'll do this one." She's pointing at what looks like a castle.
I pick up the sparkle gold crayon. It looks absurdly small in my hand, and start coloring within the lines of the princess's dress. My hand's not exactly steady. These hands are made for hitting, for fighting, not for delicate work like this.
But I try. For this little girl who trusted me with her favorite crayon, I try.
"You're pretty good at coloring," Daisy observes after a minute.
"Thanks. You're very good too."
"I know. Mama says I'm an artist." She says it with such pride that I have to smile.
We color in silence for a few minutes. I can feel Joanna watching from the couch, probably wondering how the hell I ended up on her floor coloring princesses. Wondering if I'm okay with this. If I'm comfortable.
The truth is, I've never been more comfortable in my life.
"Danny?" Daisy's voice is softer now. Almost shy.
"Yeah?"
"Are you gonna stay? Like, for a long time?"
My hand stills on the coloring book. I look at her. This tiny person who's already been abandoned by one man who was supposed to stay. Who's learned too young that people leave.
"I'm going to try very hard to stay," I say. "I like your mama a lot. And I really like you. So yeah, I want to stay for a long time."
"What if you get tired of us?"
The question breaks my fucking heart.
"Daisy, I don't think I could ever get tired of you or your mama. You guys are pretty great."
"Promise?"
I should know better than to make promises I might not be able to keep. Should hedge, should give myself an out. But looking at this little girl with her blue eyes and her sparkle crayons and her need for reassurance, I can't do anything but tell her the truth.
"I promise I'll try my very hardest. Is that okay?"
She thinks about this. Then nods. "Okay. That's good."
She goes back to coloring her castle, crisis apparently averted. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
"Danny?" she says again.
