It feels wrong going over to Edward's empty-handed, so I make brownies while Dad starts preparing the nursery for the paint job tomorrow. I know I still have almost three months until my due date, but it doesn't seem like enough time to have everything ready. I'm a planner—always have been. I make lists and know what's supposed to happen next, but pregnancy is different. I've read all the books and logically know what's going on every week, but there's so much unknown about this. Sure, most first-timers go to their due date or after, but I already feel like January twenty-first is just around the corner, and it's only October.

For some reason, I just feel like things need to be ready for her now, and the whole crib not in stock thing has me slightly on edge. Fuck, I'm a control freak, and this pregnancy feels so out of my control. Sure, Dad promised to come back once it's delivered to get everything put together, but the delivery date is almost a month away. So much can change in a month. Like what if my blood pressure gets worse and I wind up on bed rest? What if I don't have all the clothing and blankets washed and ready? What if the worst happens and I come home empty handed?

"Momma's losing her mind," I mumble, rubbing my bump as the timer for the brownies goes off. "Maybe we should spend the next three months baking. I can control baking, at least."

I head over to the oven, grabbing a potholder as I open the door to find the pan of perfectly baked treats. As I grab the pan, the holder slips from my grasp, and my bare fingers connect with the three-hundred and something degree pan.

"Fuck!" I curse, dropping it into the rack as I wave my hand like a maniac.

"Bells!" Dad yells, running down the stairs as more curse words flow from my lips. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

I hold my hand close to my chest, grunting. "Burn. S'okay."

"Let me see."

I shake my head and point to the oven with my good hand. "Just get those out. It's fine."

It's not. It hurts like a bitch. This is what I get for being distracted and worrying about things I shouldn't. I'm not going to come home empty-handed, and I'm sure everything will go perfectly but not if I worry like this. Sure, the crib being back-ordered is disappointing, but I will get it. I need to calm the fuck down.

"The brownies are fine," Dad says. "Now, let me see your hand."

I pull it from my chest, and my fingers are already red, angry, and starting to blister. "My hand slipped, and I grabbed the pan with it instead of using the potholder. It's fine, really. Painful but fine. I'm a little distracted, I think."

"Maybe Edward will have something. He said seven, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind if we head over early."

I glance at the clock, reading quarter-'til, and shrug. "Probably not, but I'm not going to make him work. I have some burn cream upstairs in my first aid kit. I can handle it. Those need to cool before I can cut them anyway."

He sighs. "Fine, but I'm going to ask him to take a look later just the same."

I roll my eyes as I head toward the stairs. "No, you're not. I'm fine!"

Edward said his door would be open, so we head right inside to the kitchen just as he's coming in from the deck. His disheveled bronze hair, scruffy jaw, and sweats and a hoodie make me weak in the knees. Why does my neighbor have to be so fucking hot under any circumstance?

"Just finished the burgers," he says, smiling as he sets the plate down on the counter where all the fixings are already set out. "I hope you like PBR, Charlie."

I swear my father beams as he puts the Tupperware container down. "You're a good man, Edward. Maybe the best, even. Bells made her famous brownies and maimed herself in the process."

I shoot the dirtiest glare at him as Edward's eyes go to my wrapped hand. Concern etches across his brow as he comes around the counter, taking it swiftly into his hands.

"What happened?"

"Just a little burn," I sigh. "I put cream on it and wrapped it up. I'm fine. And my dad doesn't deserve any PBR now because I told him not to mention it to you. You don't need to work on your weekend off."

He shakes his head, deftly unwrapping my gauze job. "It's not work when it comes to you. Besides, depending on how bad, you may need more than some first aid kit cream. I have a strong antibiotic ointment in my bag and a burn cream that'll help pain, which . . . you're going to need. Did you grab the rack or something?"

"The potholder slipped. Next time, I'll use an actual mitt."

He smiles tightly. "That would be safer. Why don't you take a seat while I grab my bag? Charlie, make yourself at home. Everything's ready if you guys want to make a burger."

Dad shakes his head. "We can wait until you patch her up. You know it really eases a lot of my worry that Bells has a good man close by. You know, one that doesn't give her tattoos, knock her up, and then leave her on her own. Plus, it's not like I have to worry about you," Dad says, laughing as Edward lets out a light chuckle.

"I promise she's safe with me, Charlie. I'll be right back."

It takes him only moments to grab his bag and come back to patch up my hand. He's quick but gentle as he wraps it up again, and then gives me the ointment and creams, telling me how often to apply. Once he's done, I stand up to help bring things over to the table, but both he and Dad stop me.

"No, you stay seated," Dad says. "You've been on your feet a lot today. Edward mentioned something about your blood pressure while we were unloading the truck. So, do as the doctor says."

I roll my eyes, putting the plate down before pulling out a chair at the table. "Isn't that doctor-patient confidentiality?"

"You're not my patient." Edward smirks. "And all I'd said was you need to take it easy because you've had some higher blood pressure readings. He'd asked me how you were, and I didn't realize it was a secret."

"Why didn't you tell me, Bells?" Dad asks, bringing the burgers over.

Some of the buns are still in the toaster, but I kind of want to just eat a patty because they smell so amazing.

I shrug, rubbing my bump. "Because it's nothing? Seriously, Dad, we're both fine. I think preparing to be a single mom is just a little stressful, but Edward's got a handle on it—you know, aside from my actual doctor. He works with Leah. Between the two of them, it's all good."

"She's not wrong," Edward says, bringing the toasted buns over and taking a seat with us. "We have a handle on it. I'm being overprotective by telling her to take it easy, which I'm not wrong about, but if I were worried, you'd know, Charlie. I won't let anything happen to the best neighbors I've ever had."

He grins, glancing over at me as I roll my eyes. I should be mad he told my dad about the absolutely fine blood pressure thing, but I can't be. It's obvious he just, you know, cares. Which is weird. I've never had too many people care about me, especially someone I've only known a week, but it kind of feels nice.

"Well, I think I should give you my number—just in case, Edward," Dad says, pulling out his wallet for a business card. "It makes me feel better knowing that my little girl—and her little girl—have someone who cares close by. I worry endlessly about her here all alone. I tried to convince her to find a place in Forks, but apparently, the town is too small."

I laugh. "Because it is! At least Port Angeles as a Walmart. Forks has a general store."

"And Mrs. Keene orders anything I need," Dad says, chuckling as we all put together our burgers and shovel fries onto our plates. "But I get it. Bella needs her own life. I'm just thankful she has a friend here. You are her friend, right, Edward?"

Edward smiles. "I'd love nothing more than to be her friend. And personal chef. Did she tell you about our first meeting?"

I stuff my face with the largest bite and shake my head. I'm still fairly embarrassed about coming over here with a plate, but the end result did make it worth it. Edward tells the story, and Charlie almost chokes as he laughs at his version.

"And then she asks me if it's soup and should she get a bowl," Edward says. "Nothing could have made me say no to her. She was all doe-eyed and told me how her tiny human just needed whatever smelled so good."

"She has eyes that'll make anyone do anything," Charlie says. "You know, when she was seventeen, she used them on me to take her to a book signing in Seattle. I took the day off work, told the school she was sick, and we went."

"It was Stephen fucking King, Edward. He signed six of my books and hugged me. It was one of the best days of my life."

"Okay, I can see why she needed to use the eyes then." Edward laughs before taking another bite of his burger.

These things taste incredible, and my tiny human is already doing somersaults. And the fries? Edward fried them himself. The man may be a doctor, but he'd make a fine chef, too. I'm in heaven.

"Oh, God, these burgers are great, Edward. Better than any restaurant could attempt."

He grins. "It's my special secret. I mix soy, garlic powder, onion powder, and some A-1 in with the meat before cooking. My mom is the great cook, honestly. I learned all my secrets from her."

"Well, your mom is a damn saint, son," Dad says with a moan. "Tell me about your family. Is your mom single?"

Edward chuckles, shaking his head. "Happily married for forty years, I'm afraid. My dad used to be a trauma surgeon in Seattle, but he's retired now. Well, somewhat. He still works but more as a general practitioner in a free clinic now. My mom stayed home with us until my sister, Alice, was in high school. She's about ten years younger than me and lives in Los Angeles, but now that we're grown, my mom does a lot of charity work and is a substitute teacher here and there."

Dad nods. "They sound like good people. I don't know what Bella has told you, but it's been different for us. Her mom and I divorced when she was little. She came to live with me permanently when she was sixteen. Before then, I had her every summer."

"Which is why summer is my favorite," I say, smiling. "My mom's a little . . . not very mom-like, to be honest. But moving in with Charlie changed everything. He's my dad and the best parent a kid could ask for."

"So, you raised a teenage girl on your own?" Edward asks.

Dad nods. "She made it easy. Bells never got into trouble. Sure, she tried me sometimes, but she wasn't like her classmates. Never once caught her drunk at a party with the other kids."

"Never caught me. I'm kidding!" I joke, smirking as Dad glares. "Seriously, he taught me right and wrong. I was twenty-one when I had my first drink—perfectly legal."

"My dad caught me drunk when I was seventeen, coming home late from a party. He then showed me a shit ton of photos of drunk drivers in accidents. It sobered me up quickly, and I avoided trouble after that."

"Now I really like your dad," Charlie says. "I've talked to kids at the high school about drugs and drinking, and none of them understand. It's a joke to them. You know, it might be good to have a doctor explain. Any chance you'd be willing to come to Forks at some point and maybe recreate what your dad showed you?"

"I'd happily try to get younger people to understand. Just let me know when, and I'll work it into my schedule. I'm not a trauma surgeon like my dad, but I can find some photos."

Dad literally smirks—probably imagining Forks High's students scared shitless. "Great. We've seen an increase in drugs the last couple years, too. I'm glad my kid avoided that shit."

I smile sweetly. "Couldn't disappoint the best dad. But really, I was a nerd—nose always in a book—so it's not like I had much opportunity. Well, aside from Mike Newton. He tried." I laugh.

"Yeah, I know. Why do you think he stopped?" Dad smirks. "I got real lucky with Bella, and I hope her little one goes just as easy on her. You ever thought about having kids, Edward?"

He smiles lightly as sorrow etches itself in his eyes. "I'd love nothing more, but they don't seem to be in the plans for me. I'm content helping others bring them into the world."

"I love my job, too, but nothing will ever bring me as much joy as Bells. Don't give up on it." He glances between us and shrugs. "Sometimes, it happens when you least expect it. Now, I'm two burgers in, but those damn brownies have been calling to me since Bella put them in the oven. You want one?"

Edward nods, standing up as my dad does. "Absolutely. I can light the firepit if you guys want to stay a while. We've got a whole twelve pack to ourselves, Charlie."

I think my dad is in love as he beams. "I wouldn't mind a good winding down. Are you up to sticking around, Bella?"

I nod. "Yeah, but do you mind if I take a burger or two home for later, Edward? I'll pack it up myself this time."

He grins. "They're all yours. I have some Tupperware in the cabinet you can use, but I don't mind packing it up for you."

"I can handle it. Go get the firepit set up and indulge in my amazing, absolutely incredible, best brownies ever. I hope you have milk. The best brownies need to be dunked in milk."

"Oh, I've got milk. And eggs. And sugar. You know, in case you ever need anything like this morning," he teases.

I smile to myself and wonder what all I can pretend I'm out of every day to see him. I'm insane. I know I'm insane. I have a horrible crush on my next-door neighbor while I'm carrying another man's baby. But I can't change the facts. Edward is a wonderful man. He's kind, caring, and has gone out of his way to be neighborly. And all I've done is climb him like a tree in my dreams. Logically, I know he doesn't see me the way I see him because if I weren't pregnant, I'd probably see him only as a kind neighbor. But my hormones are out of control, and I do climb that fine body in my dreams.

Why couldn't an old, weird person move in? Or a family of four? Why did it have to be him?

Dad and Edward have a little too much fun drinking beer and eating brownies. They bond on the back porch as I sit with them, and the firepit keeps us warm. My dad has never liked the guys I do, but I guess, considering Edward isn't actually mine, it's different. He loves every word Edward says, and I mean, I do, too. We get to hear about him being a big brother to his sister, about growing up with a father he wanted to be like, and about why he loves what he does.

By the time they finish their twelve pack, I'm basically asleep and stir awake to my dad hitting my Uggs propped up on the edge of the firepit.

"I should get these girls home before one of us has to carry them," Dad says, chuckling as I blink the sleep from my eyes.

"I'm kind of up now," I say, groaning as I sit up and hold my hands out. "Give me a lift, will you?"

He takes my hands, pulling me up, and I fall into his chest. "Maybe I should be carrying you after all. You okay?"

I nod as I get my bearings. "Yeah, just a little more tired than I realized. I'm good, but I think I may be heading straight to bed once we get home."

"How about you make sure she gets next door safely, and I'll bring over the leftovers?" Edward asks. "Alexei probably needs to be fed, too, doesn't he?"

I groan. "Ugh, yes, I should have put wet food down earlier but didn't realize how long we'd be here. He usually has dinner around eight. I bet he's pissed."

It's nearly ten-thirty, so I'm sure I'm going to get some nasty looks from my boy. He also likes to spite-pee on the blanket on the couch when I piss him off, which I then have to soak in OxyClean before washing—and then wash again. He's really been preparing me for parenthood all of his life.

"You all go home, and I'll be behind you," Edward says.

I nod and smile. "Thanks, Edward. You know you really are the best neighbor, right?"

He shrugs as a smile teases on his own lips. "You make it easy, beautiful."

I don't own Twilight.

Thank you, Ashley for prereading and Alice's White Rabbit for beta'ing!

I'm so sorry for being late. I've had some health issues lately and needed to relax, but I'm back and I plan on giving chapter 5 on Friday! Thank you all for reading, reviewing, and pimping this little fic! I love you all more than words!