A/N- This is it! The last chapter! So I intended there to be another one before this, but when I read it back, it just didn't flow. So then I wrote this, and settled on this for the ending, just because I think (even though it's short) it ties everything together. So thank you to everyone who has reviewed :) And all that I ask is that you review just one more time for this end chapter :)

Gracie xxx

Nude, With Calla Lilies

Chapter 15: Calla Lily

She was perfect; all twelve inches of her from the wisps of dark brown hair to the tiny toenails on each tiny foot. Her blue eyes were big and round, her eyelashes long and dainty, lips pressed together in concentration as her eyes followed the bounding dog along the sand.

They named her Calla Lily, for reasons obvious to anyone who knew their story, and for the simple fact that their daughter was the purest thing that could have come out of all of this.

She looked just like Lucas, with Brooke's hair and infamous dimples.

The press had camped outside the hospital, and Brooke feared the media worst. But a couple snaps later, Calla to them, was old news, much to the relief of Lucas who had slept in front of the door, just inside Brooke's room.

He's have slept by the door every night if he'd had to.

-

Brooke had spent just four weeks in their New York apartment, Lucas, three.

The city just hadn't felt right after everything that had happened, and after Peyton filed for divorce, the press were hot on their tale at every move. So when Lucas suggested they move somewhere quieter, somewhere people wouldn't know them, (because after all, he was only an author who'd had an affair, and she was only the soon-to-be-ex-wife of somebody who happened to be in the public eye before any of it happened) she'd thought suburbia, or perhaps even the country.

The fresh air would do them all good, Brooke had thought, even more so when the baby arrived.

But when Lucas had showed her his laptop, photos of different houses in Maui, she wasn't sure what to think.

Now, Hawaii was more of a home than New York ever was.

-

They had a pretty house right on the beach, with hundreds of tropical flowers for colour and palm trees for shade. It wasn't huge, wasn't small either, just understated, but with plenty of room for the three of them, and for their dog Angus.

Brooke had argued it was a stupid name, that a), it didn't suit the thing, and B), it didn't sound remotely Hawaiian. Lucas had argued that Angus was a man's name and as their dog was, well, a man, it was fitting. And besides, even though he'd agreed to (and loved) Calla Lily, he hadn't chosen the name, and he wanted to choose something.

She'd given in then, and now smiled with their daughter on her lap as Lucas tried relentlessly to get Angus to fetch the stick he kept throwing into the water. Calla giggled, white sundress blowing against her golden skin as Brooke bounced her, shielding her own eyes from the sun as Lucas shook his head, walking back up towards them in defeat.

They rarely discussed Peyton. The day after he sent back the signed divorce papers was the day they silently agreed that now it was just the three (or four including Angus) of them. There was still the odd media stab now and again, but with old pictures, and their past didn't seem to bother their local neighbours who didn't really care that Lucas had had an affair with the subject of his wife's breakthrough painting. They didn't care that Brooke had been married to the biggest shipping lothario, perhaps ever, and they really didn't care that Calla was the innocent product in all of it.

They'd read Lucas' books and seen Brooke's face. That was all.

Lucas hadn't told anyone that didn't need to know their new address, hadn't wanted to, hadn't felt the need, and so invites to the awards ceremonies that had once been part of his life might have been swimming around with other lost post, the rsvps left unreplied.

Life was different in Hawaii, not abnormal, not cut off from civilisation, but peaceful, tranquil, better.

When Lucas had worried that their finances might run out if he stopped selling books or failed to write another hit, Brooke had laughed, waved it away saying if needs be, she'd get a job in a coffee shop or at a beach bar, one where she could meet blonde blue-eyed surfers and flaunt herself in a bikini.

Lucas had rolled his eyes and promised her that it would never come to that.

-

They hadn't married, hadn't even discussed marriage, and didn't need to. Calla was commitment enough for them, and paperwork wouldn't change how things were.

He'd propose one day, Lucas thought, lying in bed with Calla in between him and Brooke. They'd walk along the beach in simple white clothing, a few years later, perhaps after a couple more kids, two boys and another girl. Calla would sprinkle flower petals before them, petals of calla lilies, barefoot with a pretty dress and curls in her hair.

"You're thinking." Brooke smiled, planting a kiss on their daughter's forehead, making her squeal as Lucas turned towards the two of them.

"I know."

"About what?"

"Us. Her." He nodded towards Calla, smiling as she grabbed his finger with her hand. This is what he'd missed out on for so many years of married life, and now he couldn't imagine going back to how things had been in New York, to the sneaking and the lying, the cheating and the rumours.

They just laid there in happy silence, content to watch their daughter as she tugged at the bed linen with clumsy fists. And it couldn't have been a better advert for happiness if they'd tried.

End.