Epilogue

There is a type of yearning within Pierre that makes you feel bad for him. Sometimes he wonders if he wasted his youth by settling down early. Or is he reliving life again because his daughter is grown now.

Layla is pleased with the relationship, because it's strictly in her control, and she doesn't have to showcase any vulnerability with Pierre. It's performative, and it gets her off.

Layla still sends produce and crafts into Pierre's dropbox for the community, despite Pierre relabelling them.

The universe is weird, they tend to cross paths often, even outside of transactional circumstances. Pierre just holds his hand out slightly so it swipes against her hip. Layla tugs at his shirt.

He doesn't usually stay long after sex, usually just enough to clean up and leave. But once he stayed a little longer, laying in her bed, as they both, existed. He counted the gray strands in her hair, and wondered if she had counted his. There were 5. He counted the sunspots on her shoulders and chest. He notices how the skin of her breasts are paler than the rest of her body.

"Do you think you're going to ever have kids?" he casually asks as they take a drink together on a Friday night. She twirls the black straw to her drink, avoiding eye contact. "Some day, maybe." "How many do you want?" "Two" "Do you think he'll be a good dad?" she laughs awkwardly. "I think he could be."

Later that night, they are facing each other in her bed, naked, and coming back from lust. "I think you're a good dad, Pierre." And Pierre doesn't really respond, because he doesn't feel like he's being a good dad. Then again, he knew Layla's father, and maybe he isn't doing so bad.

Pierre got a vasectomy years earlier. There is no accidental surprises.

Sometimes they can go weeks without a business transaction.

Pierre never had sex outside or in public places before Layla. Never did he have to hide a relationship either.