11. Noah

After pancakes, Brighton had errands to run, so Camryn and I explored the resort and spent some time in the ocean. When we arrived back at our house, a young high school kid hired by the resort—well, now me—was getting ready to mow our lawn.

We chatted for a minute and he was so nervous to meet me and I still can't wrap my head around that. I'm just Noah Jones, as plain as my last name, but I do realize I'm a superstar to some and I respect that. After a few selfies, I told him to take the afternoon off with pay. I wanted to mow my own lawn. It's a great time to just relax and think. Plus, I think it's good for Camryn, who played with her dolls as she watched me, to see her father doing normal everyday things.

By the time I finished up mowing, a few clouds had moved in, so I took Camryn out to her favorite café for lunch, and then we made a trip to the grocery store, where I loaded up on flour and whipped cream. I also bought a few steaks to barbecue, and I'm hoping the rain holds off. My folks will be here soon, and I want to put up a nice meal for them. I invited Brighton, and it's crazy how anxious I am to see her.

At first, she wasn't going to come. Until I assured her she wasn't intruding on the first dinner with my folks in our new place. I also assured her they'd want to meet Camryn's new nanny. What I didn't tell her of was that I really wanted her there. Yeah, yeah, I know. This is a sex only relationship, and a secret one at that, but it doesn't mean I don't want to spend time with her, or tie her to my bed.

Whoa, where the hell did that thought come from?

"Daddy, when will Grandma and Grandpa be here?" Camryn asks from the kitchen table, bored with her electronic device. Maybe she needs a few goats. I grin at that thought, and once again wonder what's going on with all the strange thoughts. Let's face it. I never thought about goats or tying women to my bed before.

I glance at the clock as I put salt and pepper onto the steaks. "In about thirty minutes."

She huffs out a breath. "That's too long."

I grin, because she clearly has no idea just how long or short thirty minutes really is. "Why don't you do some coloring for them? I bet they'd love a new picture."

"Okay." She runs from the kitchen, and a minute later, a knock comes at the door. My heart thumps. Jesus, when did I start acting like a hormonal teen again? I wipe my hands and hurry to the door, swinging it open to find a smiling Brighton in a pretty blue sundress, holding a huge pan of dessert in her hand.

"Wow, what's this?"

She holds the pan out to me. "Strawberry cheesecake."

I take it from her and breathe in the delicious scents. "You didn't have to go through the trouble." I grin. "I'm kind of glad you did. This beats bowls of vanilla ice cream."

"Didn't have to. Wanted to. What would your parents think of me if I showed up empty-handed?"

Is she worried what my parents might think? Does she think I told them about our younger years? "They're going to love you, Brighton." Without thinking, I lean and press my lips to hers. Her body stiffens, and I jerk back. "Sorry."

Her eyes soften. "Don't be. You just took me by surprise. I'm not used to out-of-the-blue kisses like that."

"Didn't your ex…" I let my words fall off. I don't want to know what she did with her ex. "New rule."

"Oh."

"Unexpected kisses all the time." Catching me off guard, she leans in and kisses me. Her smile is wide when she inches back. "I take that as a yes."

She nods. "These rules, we're just going to make them up as we go?"

"Ms. Brighton," Camryn screeches at the top of her lungs as she comes rushing to the door. She throws her arms around Brighton's waist. "Do you want to color with me?"

"Jellybean, I would love to color with you."

She takes Brighton's hand, and leads her to the living room, where she's laid out all her coloring books and crayons.

"Grandma and Grandpa put my colorings on their fridge. Do you want one for your fridge too?"

"Of course, I do."

My heart lodges somewhere in the vicinity of my throat as I watch the two kneel on the floor together. Everything in the way my daughter looks at her nanny warm my soul, and makes me think about prolonging this arrangement past the NHL season. But I can't do that. It's selfish. Brighton has a life to live, one that involves putting her education to better use. I am positive after this break, she'll want to step into the role of manager at this resort, and I have full confidence that she can run my investment successfully.

"I'll…" I swallow. "I'll be making a salad if anyone needs me."

"I can help once we finish coloring," Brighton tells me.

"No, I have everything under control."

It's a lie. I have nothing under control. Least of all my life, Camryn's life, my future, and the things I'm feeling for Brighton. The only thing I have control over is my career, and soon enough, I need to concentrate all my focus on that.

Back in the kitchen, I put the cheesecake into the fridge and as I get to work on making a salad and putting potatoes into foil, I listen to Camryn chat non-stop to Brighton. I head out onto the big, covered deck off the kitchen, which is at least five times the size of the cracker jack box-sized deck we had in the city, I check the sky to see that the clouds have passed.

Once I get the barbecue lit, I stare out over the water in the distance, and listen to the families laugh and play in the surf. For the briefest of moments, with Brighton and Camryn coloring and my folks on their way, I get a sense of what it would be like to expand my small family.

I head back in and Camryn squeals as the doorbell rings. "Daddy, they're here."

"I'll be right there." I hurry to the living room, and find Brighton pushing to her feet, nervous anticipation dancing on her face. Camryn runs out the door and starts down the stairs.

"Hurry," she screeches.

"Coming?" I ask Brighton.

She shrugs and I'm not sure if she's asking a question or not when she responds with, "I can wait here."

Sensing her apprehension, I take her hand in mine, removing the choice she doesn't seem to want to make. "Come on." We head into the hall and down the long stretch of stairs as Camryn swings the door open and squeals when she finds her grandparents on the stoop.

"Grandma, Grandpa! You have to see my new room." She holds her arms out. "It's huge and Ms. Brighton gave me Charlie and she reads to me and she made me lumpy pancakes and I made a wish."

I rub Camryn's hair when I reach her. "Whoa, slow down, Bean. Let Grandma and Grandpa inside first."

Ignoring me, she continues to speak. "That's Ms. Brighton," she says as Brighton hovers near the bottom of the stairs. "She's my nanny." She giggles and lowers her voice, which brings it down to normal volume. "But I made a wish." My heart jumps, worry taking up residence in my gut. Dammit, the last thing I want to do is disappoint my daughter. I've really made a mess of things, and I'm going to have to talk to her again. I can't let her get her hopes up like this.

"Well, hello, Brighton," Dad says as I pick Camryn up, and hold her in my arms. Mom gives Brighton a big smile. I study Mom for a second. Alzheimer's is a vicious disease and I never know from one day, or even one minute, to the next if she's going to be lucid or not. Fortunately, today her eyes are bright and shiny, and she seems very well aware of what's happening.

"Hey Mom." I lean in and give her a hug and kiss on the cheek and she hands me a bottle of white wine. "You didn't have to bring anything."

"Noah," she greets and smooths her hand over her short brown hair as she ignores my protest. "Why don't you introduce us to your new friend."

"She's Camryn's nanny," I clarify, and Mom gives me a look that suggests she wasn't born yesterday, and she might know me better than I know myself, and I can't argue with either of those things. I am, however, happy to see that she's very aware today. Maybe just a little too aware. Although the heat between Brighton and me can probably be felt all the way to Canada.

Mom practically pushes me to the side. "Brighton, it's so nice to meet you."

"You too, Mrs. Jones."

She makes a huffing sound. "Please, it's Sandra."

Brighton crosses the room. "Sandra." Brighton holds her hand out. Mom takes her hand in both of hers and her gaze moves over Brighton's face with sheer appreciation. "You'll be taking care of my lot here."

Brighton laughs. "I'll be taking care of Camryn while Noah works, yes." Her statement quickly reminds me that she's been taking care of others for far too long. Who took care of her? For that matter, who's taking care of her now?

You are, dude. You are.

Yeah, that's right. I'm taking care of her.

Mom smirks and pulls her in for a hug like they're going to be the best of friends, and wouldn't that be nice for Brighton and Mom. Brighton would be the daughter Mom never had and Mom would be the mother Brighton loved and lost.

"Peachy, just peachy," Mom responds with a smirk. She cups Brighton's cheeks. "I think you're perfect for this little family."

"Perfect for Camryn," I correct gently, and catch Brighton's eyes. I don't want her thinking I'm looking for more. She made it clear how things stand between us.

Dad clears his throat as Camryn squirms in my arms. I reassure my wiggly daughter that we'll head upstairs shortly as Dad greets Brighton. "It's nice to meet you, Brighton."

I wave my hand toward my dad. "Brighton, this is my dad, Paul."

Brighton gives him a big smile. "It's easy to tell you're related. You guys look so much alike."

I glance at my father. His hair is graying with age, and his mustache is more salt than pepper these days, but he's still a very handsome man. I puff my chest out. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Brighton grins. "You should, it was meant as one."

Mom claps her hands and glances at us. "My handsome men." She makes a tsking sound and nods her head toward me. "Hard to believe that one's still single, isn't it?"

Deep concern moves into Brighton's eyes and I can't help but wonder what's going through her head, but I'm not going to ask, and I need to redirect this conversation.

"On that note, let's head up. I'm sure Camryn is anxious to show you around." Camryn wiggles and I set her down. She runs over and grabs her grandmother's hand and my stomach tightens as she guides her grandma to the stairs. I could fucking sob as I watch them go, because my daughter has no idea how much more she's going to lose.

"What about me?" Dad asks, and Camryn huffs.

"Don't be so slow."

"Camryn, be nice," I warn lovingly, and as they all head upstairs, Brighton hangs behind. I walk up to her and her knuckles lightly brush mine.

"You okay?"

I nod. "I am, it's just…you know."

"I do know." She takes my hand and gives it a little reassuring squeeze and it eases some of the hurt inside me. "Come on. Let's go watch Camryn show them around. She's so excited."

We head up the stairs and to my wing of the house. By the time we reach the living room, Camryn has my folks in her bedroom, showing them the huge space as she calls it. Once done, she takes them for a tour of the living room, dining room, and even my bedroom.

Brighton and I wait for them in the kitchen. When they finally all come back, I lean against the counter. "Who wants iced tea?"

"Me, me, me," Camryn calls out, and I pour her a drink. She takes it and happily plunks down at the table, working on some of her coloring.

"Brighton, you have to try the wine I brought," Mom insists. "It's from British Columbia. From a winery right beside Butchart Gardens. I have a friend who lives there and sends it to me."

Brighton's eyes widen. "I'd love to try some. I've heard of Butchart Gardens. Thank you."

Dad holds his hand up. "No wine for me."

"Scotch?" I ask and he gives a firm nod.

"I shouldn't be having any with training starting, but I'll have a small one with you." I go to work on opening the wine and pouring it. Then I make a drink for Dad and me. "How about we sit outside? I have the barbecue heating and I'm just about ready to put the steaks on."

"Anything I can do, son?" Dad asks.

We step outside and Mom walks up to the rail. She out at the water, a confused look moving over her face. "This is where you live now." Her voice is low, almost a whisper.

I walk up and stand beside her, leaning on the rail. "It's beautiful, isn't it? I think this would be a great place to raise Camryn." I nearly choke on my next words. "A great place to make memories."

Mom turns to me, puts her small hand on my cheek and gives me a smile. "It's a beautiful place to raise a child, Noah." Camryn comes out with her coloring and sits at the table.

"Let's sit." We walk to the table and she sits across from Brighton, who's talking quietly to Camryn as she continues to color.

"I'll grab the steaks," I announce and check with Brighton to make sure she's good out here without me. She nods and I dash inside. When I come back out, Mom is sipping her wine and listening to Brighton.

"That's right. I grew up in this house. The ocean was my playground."

"You made nice memories?" Mom asks.

Brighton gives a smile. "Many." Even though she's saying it with a huge smile, there's pain behind it. Back in the day, I used to think all the rich kids had it so easy. I don't think that anymore.

"Mom, you remember I used to work on the grounds in the summer."

She nods, but I'm not sure she does. "I had grass stains from the top of my head to the tip of my toes."

Dad laughs. "Nothing wrong with an honest day's work."

"Nothing at all," I agree.

Mom leans toward Brighton. "All I want is for my son to find a nice wife. It's all any parent wants before they…you know." Oh, God, is she talking about dying? "He's a good boy, you know." She pats Brighton's hand.

Brighton's smile is shaky. "I know."

Mom sighs, looks off toward the water and goes quiet for a bit. We all do; even Camryn is coloring quietly at the end of the table. When Mom gazes back at Brighton, she frowns for a second and then she grins. "I'm so glad you're part of our family. Noah needs a wife and Camryn needs a mother."

Camryn lifts her head, and before she gets any ideas, I start to explain, "Mom—" but close my mouth when Dad gives a small shake of his head. Honestly, I don't know enough about the disease to know what to say or what not to say. The truth is I want to tell her that I'm okay without a wife, that Camryn is okay without a mother but maybe that's not even true.

Mom narrows her gaze. "You will make a beautiful bride, Brighton."

"I'm not…" Brighton stops speaking and looks to me for guidance.

"There's nothing in the world I want more." Mom frowns. "Did you guys set a wedding date?"

As Camryn watches me carefully, Brighton shifts uncomfortably, and my mind races for answers. I want to make Mom happy, want to give her the one thing in the world she wants, but I can't play along with this, right?

"Noah?"

"Soon, Mom. Soon."

Well, fuck.

She claps her hands. "Peachy."

Maybe she's not as aware as I'd originally thought. or… No, she can't be matchmaking. That's not like her at all.

A little gasp erupts from Camryn's throat as she puts it together, then big, blue excited eyes meet mine. "Daddy, is Ms. Brighton going to be my mommy?"