Chapter 15 Jonathan #2
"Several, actually. Prenatal nutritionist, pregnancy yoga instructor, even a counselor who specializes in non-traditional families. All cancelable if you don't want them, but available if you do."
The lock clicks, and the door opens slightly. Claire stands there in one of Stuart's shirts, eyes red and puffy, looking so pitiful. "You did all that?"
"Yes. It's our job to take care of you, to support you through this."
She opens the door wider, and I see her walls slowly crumbling.. "Jonathan..."
"Can we come in? Please? We need to talk, all of us, without Stuart's intensity or demands. Just us."
She steps back, allowing us entry. Her room looks like a hurricane hit it. Books everywhere, tissues littered across her nightstand, her laptop open to forums about polyamorous parenting.
"You've been researching," Dane observes, picking up one of the books.
"Trying to figure out if this is even possible. Legally, logistically, emotionally."
"What did you find?" I ask, sitting on the bed and patting the space beside me.
"Lots of complications but also... examples of it working. Commune-style parenting. Even some polyamorous arrangements with children who grew up remarkably well-adjusted."
"So it's possible," Dane says, settling on her other side.
"Possible isn't the same as probable. And Stuart—"
"Stuart will come around. Give him time."
"I don't have time," she says, hand moving to her still-flat stomach. "This baby isn't waiting for us to figure our shit out. They're coming whether we're ready or not."
"Then we get ready," I say simply. "Together."
"How can you be so calm about this? About not knowing?"
"Because I know what matters. You, this baby, our family. The rest is just details."
"Expensive, legally complex details," Dane adds, "but Jonathan's right. We can figure those out. The important question is do you want to? Do you want us involved?"
"Of course I do," she says immediately, then deflates. "But I can't force you. Any of you. If this is too much—"
"It's not too much," I interrupt. "It's exactly enough. Claire, I've always wanted kids, but I didn’t think it would ever happen. But this? You, us, this weird family we've built? It's perfect.”
"Even if the baby isn't yours?"
"I don't care if it is or isn't. Because then I get to choose to be their father, not just have it thrust on me. That's more powerful, don't you think?"
Claire starts crying then, really crying, and I pull her against me. Dane wraps his arms around her from behind, and we hold her while she releases all the fear and uncertainty she's been carrying.
"I'm scared," she admits between sobs. "What if we fuck this up? What if the baby grows up confused or damaged because of our arrangement?"
"Then they'll be in good company," Dane says dryly. "We're all confused and damaged, and we're doing okay."
She laughs through her tears. "That's not reassuring."
"But it's honest. We're not perfect. We're going to make mistakes. But this kid will never doubt they're loved."
"But Stuart—"
"Will come around," I insist. "He always does. It just takes him longer because he has to fight through more barriers."
We stay like that for a while, holding each other, letting the reality settle. Then Claire shifts, turning to face me more fully.
"The appointment with the doctor—is she really the best?"
"The best. I called in a favor from a friend who runs her practice. She's booked solid for months, but she'll see you Thursday."
"And the nutritionist?"
"Specializes in prenatal nutrition.”
"You really thought of everything."
"I tried. I wanted you to know that regardless of what Stuart does, you're not alone.”
She kisses me then, soft and grateful. "Thank you."
"No need to thank me. This is what partners do. What fathers do."
The word hangs in the air—father. Am I ready for that? The answer surprises me with its certainty: yes. More ready than I've ever been for anything.
"Can I?" I gesture to her stomach.
She nods, and I place my hand on her belly, marveling at the possibility contained there.
"Hey, baby," I say softly. "I'm Jonathan.
I might be your dad, or I might be your uncle, or I might be something that doesn't have a name yet.
But whatever I am, I'm yours. I'm going to teach you to throw a ball and ride a bike and do push-ups.
I'm going to carry you on my shoulders and make sure you know you're loved every single day. "
Claire's crying again, but softer now. Dane moves closer, his hand covering mine on her stomach.
"I'm Dane," he says quietly. "I'm going to fill your world with stories.
Real ones and made-up ones and some that blur the lines.
I'm going to teach you that words have power and imagination is the greatest gift.
I'll probably analyze your childhood development too much and turn you into a character in my novels, but I promise to change your name. "
We laugh, the three of us. The fear is still there, but underneath it is something stronger—determination, love, possibility.
The door opens without a knock, and Stuart stands there, swaying slightly but more sober than when I left him. He takes in the scene—us on the bed, hands on Claire's stomach, tear tracks on her face.
"I'm being unreasonable," he says without any of us saying a word.
"Yes," Claire agrees immediately.
"But I need structure. Guidelines. Something."
"Then we create them," I suggest. "Together, like we did for our relationship."
Stuart moves into the room, each step careful. "I can't not know. It's not in my nature."
"Then we test," Claire says, surprising all of us. "But not now. After the baby's born, if it becomes necessary for medical reasons or if the not knowing is destroying you. But Stuart, the results don't change anything about involvement. All three of you are fathers if you choose to be."
"That's not legally possible."
"Then we create our own legal structure. Contracts, wills, power of attorney. We make it as binding as law allows."
Stuart sits on the edge of the bed, not quite joining us completely. "I don't know how to be a father."
"Neither do we," I point out. "We'll learn together."
"What if I'm like my father? Cold, distant, caring more about work than family?"
"Then we'll call your ass on it," Claire says. "Just like we do now when you're being an emotionally unavailable dick.”
Stuart looks at Claire's stomach, and I see the war in his expression—fear versus want, control versus surrender.
"Can I?" he asks hesitantly.
Claire takes his hand, places it on her stomach. "This is your baby too, Stuart. Yours and Jonathan's and Dane's. Ours."
"Ours," he repeats, the word foreign but not unpleasant in his mouth.
We sit there, four adults with their hands on a belly that doesn't even show yet, imagining a future that shouldn't work but might. The room is quiet except for our breathing.
"We need a bigger house," Stuart says suddenly. "And this one's not child-safe."
"We have nine months to figure that out," I point out.
"Less than that," Claire corrects.
"We need to start planning immediately. Nursery design, baby-proofing, researching schools—"
"Stuart," Claire interrupts gently. "We have time."
"But—"
"But right now, we just need to be here. Together. The rest can wait."
He nods slowly, his type-A personality warring with the need to just exist in this moment. I watch him struggle, then consciously relax, his hand gentle on Claire's stomach.
"Okay," he says. "We do this. All of us."
For the first time since Claire dropped her bombshell, I genuinely believe we can make this work.
Later, after Stuart and Dane have gone downstairs, Claire and I lie together in the darkness.
"Thank you," she whispers.
"For what?"
"For being the glue. For holding us together when we could have shattered."
"That's what I do. Jonathan the fixer, at your service."
"Jonathan the father," she corrects giggling.
The title settles over me like a blanket—warm and comfortable.
"Whatever this baby needs," I promise, "whoever they belong to biologically, I'm their dad. That's non-negotiable."
"I know," she says, and I hear the smile in her voice. "That's why I love you."
I pull her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I love you too. All of you.”
We drift toward sleep, her breathing evening out against me.
I finally feel hopeful that this might actually work out.