Hi! Here's a new story that recently came to me. Just a warning that it contains cheating, so if that's a hard limit for you then consider yourself warned.

If you're sticking around, I hope you enjoy it :)

This story will take the form of short chapters like She, but it turns out that daily updates are a bit of a killer, so this time I'm aiming for every other day. I'll increase this to daily where chapters are particularly short, but on the whole, every other day it is.

Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer.


I sit and sip my drink – the one he made of course – watching. Taking it all in. And I don't like what I see.

"Edward, could you just pass me my phone? I left it on the side over there. No, not there, there." She's pointing and I kind of want to break her finger.

For the record, I'm not a violent person. Not usually. For Bree I think I could make an exception.

He hands it to her and she's all smiles.

"Thanks, sweetie, I don't know what I'd do without you."

He mumbles something and walks away. She does not deserve him. I resist the urge to stand up and tell her as much.

"Having a baby is so exhausting," she says to me, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "It makes such a difference having Edward home at weekends to help out."

The baby in question is now six weeks old and sleeping through the night. From what I've seen of Lucy during the day, she sleeps every couple of hours too and is no trouble when she's awake. The bitch has been gifted the perfect baby and still behaves like a spoiled child herself.

Bree is bright-eyed and fresh-faced.

Edward has dark-circles beneath his eyes and looks like he needs to sleep for a week.

"I'll just take my glass out," I say, moving to get up from the couch. She looks up from whatever she's doing on her phone that meant she's ignored me, a visitor in her home, for the past five minutes.

"Oh! No, don't get up, you might disturb Lucy. I'll call Edward to get it." She opens her mouth but I'm on my feet, baby cradled in the nook of one arm and still sleeping soundly before she can make a sound.

"I've got it, Bree, It's fine. I'm capable of holding a baby and taking a glass to the kitchen." There's a message in there for her. She doesn't get it of course, instead she sighs.

"I've forgotten how it is to feel normal," she begins. "Childbirth does such terrible things to your body."

While I agree some women have their bodies ravaged giving birth, I happen to know she wasn't one of them. I want to tell her to get a grip, but I manage to refrain. She's been known to ban people from the house and I can't let that happen.

I need my Edward fix on a regular basis.