Chapter 23
Dane
My publisher's office occupies the forty-second floor of a glass tower in Midtown, with stunning views of Central Park.
My publisher, Petra Vance, sits behind a desk that's more art installation than furniture—all clean lines and expensive minimalism—wearing her trademark black ensemble and an expression that suggests she's about to make me an offer I'll want to refuse.
"Dane, darling," she says, gesturing to the leather chair across from her. "Thank you for coming in on such short notice."
I settle into the chair, already bracing myself. Petra only uses "darling" when she's about to suggest something she knows I'll hate. "What's this about, Petra? Your assistant was cryptic."
"Your situation," she says, cutting straight to it.
She pulls out a folder and slides it across the desk.
"Your blog post about polyamory and chosen families?
Over two million shares. Your social media following has tripled in six weeks.
The symposium speech Stuart gave—trending for five days. People are fascinated by your story."
"Our life, not our story," I correct, though I already know where this is going. "We're not characters in a book."
"But you could be." She leans forward, energy crackling around her like static electricity. "A memoir. 'Love Multiplied' or 'Four: A Love Story' or something equally marketable. It would be huge, Dane. An instant bestseller. Maybe even breakout mainstream success—Oprah Book Club territory."
"No."
"You haven't even heard my offer—"
"I don't need to." I stand, ready to leave. "Our relationship isn't content to be monetized. We're not a brand."
"Everything's a brand now," Petra argues, standing too. "And whether you write the book or not, people are already writing your story. Think pieces, hot takes, social media threads. At least if you tell your own story, you get to tell the truth."
"The truth isn't for sale." I move toward the door.
"Dane, wait." Her voice loses its sharp edge, becoming something closer to genuine concern. "I'm not trying to exploit you. But you have a platform. A voice. You could help so many people who are living in secret, afraid to claim their families publicly. Isn't that worth something?"
The argument slows my exit. She's not wrong—my inbox is full of messages from people in polyamorous relationships, thanking me for visibility, asking for advice, sharing their own stories.
"I'll think about it," I comment. "But not a memoir. If I write anything, it would be something that helps without exposing our private moments."
"Fair enough." She hands me the folder. "Look through this at least. See what people are saying. And Dane? Whatever you decide, we're behind you. The team here—we support you one hundred percent."
I get in the car and greet my driver before settling in for the ride back to Westchester. I pull out Petra's folder and begin flipping through market research and social media analytics.
The comments are revealing—ranging from supportive to hateful, with everything in between.
But what strikes me are the questions from parents: How do you explain this to children?
What books can I share with my kid about diverse families?
My daughter has two moms and a stepdad she loves—where are the stories that look like her life?
That's when it hits me. I’ll create something for families like ours without making us a spectacle.
By the time I reach our stop in Westchester, I've sketched out the entire concept on the back of the folder.
When I arrive home, I find everyone in the nursery, arguing good-naturedly about the placement of a bookshelf.
"I have an idea," I interrupt, and three heads turn toward me.
"What kind of idea?" Stuart asks suspiciously.
"A children's book. About a baby with three magical guardians."
The room goes completely quiet for a moment.
"Hmm…say more," Claire says, settling carefully into the rocking chair.
I pull out my hastily sketched notes. "The baby is born into a world where everyone gets one guardian—one magical being who protects and guides them through life.
But this baby is special. She gets three guardians, each with different magic, different gifts.
One guardian gives her strength and courage.
One gives her joy and adventure. One gives her wisdom and stories.
Together, they protect her from all the darkness in the world. "
"That's beautiful," Claire breathes. "It's us, but not us."
"Exactly. It normalizes the concept of multiple parental figures without being preachy. Kids with traditional families can enjoy it for the fantasy elements. Kids with diverse families see themselves reflected. And it doesn't exploit our relationship."
"Your publisher would go for this?" Stuart asks, his analytical mind already working through logistics.
"Petra wants me to write something to capitalize on the publicity.
This gives her a product while protecting our privacy.
" I turn to Jonathan. "And I was thinking—you're actually a decent artist. Those sketches you did of the nursery, the workout plans you illustrate for clients. What if you did the illustrations?"
Jonathan's eyes widen. "I'm obviously not a professional illustrator though—"
"But you’re really good at it. And you have a style that would totally work for this project." I show him my rough character sketches. "I'm thinking watercolor style."
"I'd need to learn digital illustration," Jonathan says, but I can see him warming to the idea already. "But yeah. Yeah, I could do this."
"And Stuart," I continue, "the guardians need to be accurate when they teach the baby things. Science, nature, how the world works. I need your expertise to make sure I don't inadvertently teach kids something wrong."
"You want me to fact-check a children's book about magical guardians?" His tone is skeptical but I see the pleased expression he can’t hide—he likes being needed, likes having a role.
"I want you to make sure that when the wisdom guardian explains how stars work or why the ocean is salty, it's actually correct."
"I can do that."
Claire's hand goes to her belly, that unconscious gesture that's become constant. "What about the mother in the story?"
"The mother is the most important part. She’s the anchor," I say, pulling out another sketch. "She's not magical like the guardians, but she's the one who binds them all together. The guardians can give the baby gifts, but the mother gives her love."
"That's perfect," Claire whispers, eyes bright with tears. Pregnancy has made her emotional about everything, but especially about anything involving the baby or our family.
I pull her into my arms and wipe the tears now spilling down her cheeks. “You really like the idea, huh?”
“I love it,” she responds.
We spend the next three hours focused entirely on building this story together and eating the remains of some Thai takeout.
Jonathan sketches characters while I write notes.
Stuart researches child development stages to ensure the story is age-appropriate.
Claire provides the emotional beats, knowing instinctively where the story needs softness or excitement.
"You could totally make a whole series out of this idea, Dane. The first book should be about her birth," Claire suggests. "How the guardians are chosen, how they meet, how they promise to protect her."
"Then subsequent books can be about different challenges she faces as she grows up," Stuart adds. "Each book teaching a lesson but through the lens of fantasy."
Jonathan looks up from his sketches. "We could follow her from baby to toddler to young kid. Different adventures, different lessons."
"Different family structures in the background," I add. "Other kids with different numbers of guardians, different types of families. Normalizing diversity without making it the point."
We work until Claire starts yawning and soon after that we head upstairs to get ready for bed.
"This could really be something," Claire says as we settle around her in the bed. "Not just for us, but for all the families that don't fit the mold."
"That's the goal," I agree, my hand finding hers in the dark.
Over the next six weeks, the project consumes us in the best way.
Jonathan takes an online course in digital illustration, filling notebooks with character studies and scene sketches.
Stuart creates detailed notes about child development and accurate explanations for natural phenomena.
Claire provides story beats and emotional resonance, knowing instinctively where young readers need comfort or excitement.
And I write. Every morning before anyone else wakes, I'm at my desk, transforming our reality into fantasy.
The story is simple on the surface—a baby girl named Luna born under a special star, who instead of one guardian receives three.
But underneath, it's about a chosen family, about different types of love being equally valid, about protection coming from unexpected places.
The guardians aren’t exact portraits of us but anyone who knows us will see the similarities. And the mother, Bella, is dark-haired and strong, anchoring her unusual family with fierce love.
It’s all coming together and I couldn’t be happier about how it’s progressing.
Before I know it, we have a complete manuscript and thirty-two illustrations that nail the concept I envisioned. Jonathan's style is perfect—watercolor-soft but with defined characters, magical but grounded, accessible to young eyes while being beautiful enough that adults will appreciate them.
Petra agrees immediately to publish, fast-tracking the production timeline. "This is brilliant, Dane. Better than the memoir I wanted. This has franchise potential—books, maybe animation, educational materials. And the best part? It helps people without exploiting you."
"When can we publish?" I ask, suddenly impatient to get this into the world.
"Beginning of the year if we rush. We’ll definitely want to do a launch party." She pauses. "It should be all four of you at the launch. That would be really good for the book."
The thought of attending a publishing event together, publicly acknowledging our relationship to my entire professional world, makes my stomach clench. But she's right.
"I'll talk to them," I agree.
The conversation that evening is tense. Stuart hates the idea of public exposure. Jonathan doesn't care about public opinion but worries about Claire's stress level. Claire herself is conflicted—wanting to support me but anxious about protestors.
"You'll be a new mom," Stuart says. "Traveling into the city, standing for hours at a cocktail party—"
"I can handle a cocktail party," Claire interrupts. "At least I won’t be pregnant. The baby will be safe at home, and I won’t be an obvious target."
"The press will be there," I warn. "Publishers invite media to these things. We'll be photographed together."
"Good," Jonathan says firmly. "Let them photograph us. We're not hiding anymore, remember?"
"Jonathan's right," Claire says, her hand on her belly. "We've already gone public. This is just the next step."
Stuart is quiet for a long moment, then nods. "Fine. But we're hiring security. And having a car ready for immediate exit if it becomes too much."
"Deal."