AN: Last chapter, okay? I might expand this to full-novel length for publication, I'm not sure yet; I feel like Reed and Duncan might have more to say, more story to tell.

💫 🐚 💫 🐚 💫 🐚 💫 🐚 💫

Three years later.

Duncan sat in the chair of solitude contemplating the ocean. It was mid-November, so the summer people had left, and he had the beach pretty much to himself. The surf rolled in, one perfect wave after another, and there were even a few intrepid surfers out in the water. Malibu wasn't known for its high surf, but nevertheless they waited hopefully.

He shook his head, still not used to his short hair. He'd cut it for his recent movie, and it would be months before it was back to the pony tail length he was accustomed to. He thought about going to get his laptop, but decided against it; after all, the point of being in the chair of solitude was to be completely alone, wasn't it? No distractions?

The article about Reed had been interesting, though, and he wanted to read more about her. She'd written a book about self-discovery, called Beach Combing, which was getting rave reviews. Duncan had of course read the whole thing, from cover to cover, as soon as he heard about it, and had even contemplated trying to reach her. The article didn't mention where she lived, though, only that she was doing a book tour. Mika, his PA, could probably find her, but then it wasn't as though he was that hard to find, was it? Reed could certainly locate him.

If she wanted to.

Duncan was startled out of his reverie by the arrival next to his chair of a little person. A tiny person, really. He had very little experience with kids, but he would have been surprised if this child had been on the planet for three years. She had curly brown hair and huge brown eyes, and two even, neat rows of small teeth, which showed in a bewitching grin.

He smiled at her, looking around for her grown up, for surely she wouldn't be wandering on the beach alone?

The toddler let loose an absolute barrage of French in Duncan's direction, most of which sailed far over his head. He thought he might have heard "bon jour," and the words definitely ended on an upturn of tone, indicating she'd asked him a question. Hearing the words pour out of her mouth made her sound like some sort of genius.

"Quoi? Quoi?" Duncan asked, pretty sure he'd just asked, "what?" and desperately trying to remember his high school French.

The little girl laughed, a delicious sound in the warm afternoon. "I forgot I'm in America now, and need to speak English first," she said in perfect English. She was wearing a white dress with sunflowers all over it, along with white saltwater sandals.

"Yes, please," Duncan said, relieved. "My French is not very good."

"Mine is," the child announced. "I live in Paris with my mother."

"Your English is very good, too," Duncan told her. "Is your mummy American?"

She nodded, looking at Duncan curiously. "Your English sounds different than mine, doesn't it?"

"Yes, I'm from a country called England."

"I've been there!" the girl announced. "We rode a big Ferris Wheel called the London Eye! Is that where you're from?"

Duncan nodded. "Not London, but nearby," he told her.

"Where's your mummy now?"

The child pointed a chubby finger.

Far down the beach, Duncan could see someone, walking toward them.

"Why are you way up here all alone?" Duncan asked. "Shouldn't you stay closer to her?"

"She told me to run here and talk to you," the little girl announced.

"Did she?"

Duncan looked again at the person walking toward them. She seemed familiar.

"What's your name?" he asked the child suddenly.

"Seashell Pink Halliwell Browne," the child replied, enunciating carefully, turning her name into something beautiful. "Mommy just calls me Shelli, though, usually. She only full-names me when she gets mad."

Duncan turned to stare at her.

"Halliwell Browne?" he repeated. He swallowed and rose from his chair.

The toddler nodded, curls waving vigorously.

By now the figure approaching them was totally recognizable.

Reed.

"Mommy! I did it! I said 'hello!'" the child announced, running back to take her mother's hand.

Reed said something that Duncan couldn't hear, and held a hand out to her daughter, taking it as they walked back toward where he stood.

"Hello, Duncan," she said when she was close enough.

"Hullo, Reed." Duncan swallowed again, unsure how to continue. "You're looking marvelous," was what he finally came up with. The word he wanted to say was "magnificent," but he thought it might be a bit much.

Reed was a little bigger than before across the hips and breasts, and her long brown hair was tied in a simple ponytail. Her skin shone, her eyes were bright, and she looked toned and healthy.

"You too, Duncan, you look great."

Shelli, bored with this conversation about looks, wandered a few steps away and began digging in the sand, looking for treasures.

"I read your book," Duncan went on, filling his eyes with the sight of her. "It was really, really good."

"Thank you. It was hard to write, but worth it in the end, I think. Miles away from Ruark and Esmerelda," she laughed.

"Yes, I remember them," Duncan answered with a smile.

"And I listen to your music all the time, I want you to know. I love your newest album."

"Well, that would make sense, wouldn't it, since most of it is about you?"

"Is it? I wondered." Reed looked over at where her daughter was grubbing in the sand.

"So?" Duncan gestured toward the little girl, who was singing a song in French as she dug.

"Yes," Reed answered. "She's yours."

Duncan let out his breath in a great whoosh as he looked down at the child.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, and I'm sorry you missed the first three years of her life," Reed said. "I just wasn't ready to come back, and by the time I found out about her, I was already in France."

"You didn't go back to Oklahoma." It wasn't a question.

"No. How could I, after you? I didn't even know if Sam would have me, after everything that happened."

"I'm sure he would've."

"Oh, Duncan, I'm so sorry, for everything," Reed burst out. "I couldn't stay, I hope you understand?" She put a hand on his arm.

Duncan nodded. "I read your book. I understand."

"I'm back now, though," she continued, wiping away tears. "We're back in Malibu to stay, if you'll have us?"

Duncan looked at her and swallowed before taking her in his arms. "Are you kidding? I love you Reed, I never stopped."

"You didn't meet anyone else? In between, I mean?"

Duncan shook his head, unable to believe she was here, she was back, and that she'd brought a tiny little miracle back with her in the form of their daughter. "There's only ever been you."

Her arms came around him, gripping him like steel. "Me either, Duncan, me either." She lifted her head to kiss him, a soft one that tasted of the salt in the air.

Just then, Shelli gave a chortle of delight. "Mommy, look what I found!"

She rose from the sand and walked toward her parents, hand open and carefully extended.

In her palm was a perfect little shell, pale pink and perfect.

"Like me, right? Seashell Pink Halliwell Browne. Seashell Pink!"

"Yes, exactly like you, darling," Duncan responded, swooping her up in his arms.

Shelli looped an arm comfortably around his neck, and turned to smile at her mother as her father held her.

The three of them turned to contemplate the sea as its gentle waves broke against the shore.

The End