A/N - I'll be honest about one thing. I wasn't planning on adding a second chapter to 'Zara. It' was the first story I wrote that didn't end all Happily Ever After, without any real epilogue, as I wanted to leave the story open-ended. Not every story needs to be wrapped up with a neat little bow. Sometimes, the author leaves it to the reader to decide what happens next.
But enough comments have been made requesting (I won't say demanding) a second chapter. I've had to give this some thought due to simply not planning a sequel. A few have wondered if his daughter would be involved. I have other stories which have daddy-daughter relationships. That doesn't mean I won't insinuate a rather close relationship between the pair though. I enjoy pushing boundaries and, well, many of my most popular stories are in a particular category...
There will be a lot of references to same-sex relationships between women in this story. Any viewpoints espoused by any of the characters do not reflect those of the author, but I do remember what university could be like, even over twenty years ago.
Usual caveats. All editing and reviewing done by the author with Microsoft Word. Spelling is usually spot on. Australian / British standard English. Definitely the occasional typo. Grammar can be ropey at times, but it's been a long time since I sat in a classroom. All mistakes owned up to by the author. Please remember this is just fantasy and I'm an amateur.
Comments and feedback appreciated as always.
*****
Six months after the end of 'Zara'...
Pulling up into the driveway, I couldn't help sighing and sagging back into the seat as I switched off the engine. Dating was hard enough as it is, but I was growing ever frustrated with, putting it bluntly, the standard of women out there. I had no problem dating single women without kids, single women with kids, single women focused on their careers, single women who volunteered, single women who were straight, bisexual or whatever other sexuality there was now though I guess I'd never date a lesbian... unless she was an ex-lesbian. I was open-minded about most things, trying to be a man fitting into the modern world. All in all, I just wanted to meet someone I would enjoy being with, and who would enjoy being with me, perhaps share a few similar interests and morals, and maybe we'd end up in a long-term relationship, based on love, respect and a shared joy for life itself.
Opening the car door, I stepped out and sighed again, knowing the interrogation I was going to face once I walked through the door. It was still early on a Saturday night. I'm sure my daughter was expecting me to be out late, maybe not even come home at all until the next morning. But I'd barely got through dinner before I bid my date goodnight. She was rather surprised... Less said otherwise, the better for the moment.
My daughter, Katie, was sitting on the lounge by herself, nursing a glass of wine, watching one of those reality or variety shows that seemed to fill the television guide nowadays. Glancing my way, she smiled as I sank into the space next to her. "Evening, Daddy," she stated cheerfully, leaning up to kiss my cheek, "You're home early."
"I don't want to call it another strike-out. Let's call it a waste of time. Half a dozen first dates in the past two months and I haven't met a woman yet I'd like to meet a second time."
Katie muted the television and turned towards me, the blanket lowering just enough to suggest she wasn't wearing much underneath. I averted my eyes quickly, not wanting to ogle my own flesh and blood. "What was wrong with this one?"
Snorting, I started to laugh. "I knew I shouldn't have agreed to a dinner date. I had no idea it was how it seems nowadays. First two dates I had, my date for the evening was clearly just after a free meal. Learned my lesson, made sure my next two dates were for nothing more than a coffee and maybe a slice of cake. Those were a little better, though date number two had her nose put out of joint because I wouldn't offer her dinner. Spoke volumes and I made sure to delete and block her number.
Tonight, it wasn't the free meal, she genuinely offered to pay for her own meal at the end. No, it was the fact she was so self-involved. I know all about her now, she must know nothing but my first name and maybe how old I am. She might know I have a daughter. She spent the entire time talking about herself, and if it wasn't that, she was on her phone and posting on social media. I mean, she took a photo of the main dish when it came out and posted it to one of those apps every woman seems to bloody have nowadays. Who does that on a date?"
"Welcome to the world of modern dating, Daddy. You'll just have to try again."
"I'm not sure the juice is worth the squeeze. Like, I know when I date a single mother, I will be priority number two compared to any children, but some of the comments otherwise either leave me scratching my head or, quite frankly, seething with quiet anger. Considering the divorce rates, I'm not surprised most women on these apps are single mothers."
"Well, you're a single father, Daddy."
"I am, but my children are grown adults, at least, and Damian is on the verge of finally moving out. If I meet women of a similar age, I might be lucky that their kids are also out of home, but as so many women are having children later, there are plenty of women my age who have children barely into their teens. I'll be honest, I've been involved with all that already. Don't really want to do it again, even as a step-parent. I don't expect to be a parental figure, particularly as many fathers are still involved even after they've split up, but I'd still be around the child or children if it turned serious enough to live together."
Katie cuddled into me. "Well, that means you spend more time with your very single and lonely daughter, Daddy."
"No dates for you?"
My daughter came out to me four months ago, admitting she had a feeling that she was bisexual, and that she had a preference for women at the current time, but was left wondering if her feelings would change. I'd heard enough to know that my daughter and her friends had fooled around, and one of her friends had visited enough in the past couple of months to suggest they were friends with benefits, but I knew Katie was also hoping and looking for something serious. But she also had ideas of who her perfect man or woman would be. I knew she hadn't been with a man yet, at least.
Wasn't sure I liked the idea of my little girl bringing a man home then potentially hearing him fuck her in my house. Another woman? Like most fathers who accepted their daughter was either gay or bi, it didn't really bother me. I knew my daughter had already enjoyed sex with women, and I knew it would happen with a man eventually, unless she realised that she was a lesbian...
"No date tonight or this weekend, Daddy," Katie replied, "The only man in my life is you. And I love that."
"You do?"
"We're still so close, Daddy. I've always loved how close we are. I'm your little girl and nothing is going to change that."
"Thank you, sweetheart. Makes me feel better about things."
In any conversation my daughter and I had about relationships, there was an elephant in the room that we did our best to ignore. It had been six months since that morning, and I still lay back at night thinking, contemplating, wondering if I'd done the right thing. I missed her like crazy, that beautiful smile whenever our eyes met, the presence of her body against mine when we lay in bed, her cute little laugh whenever I did something to humour her, the way she gazed at me intensely when we made love...
I missed Zara more than anything. But I couldn't admit it to my daughter. Hell, even admitting it to myself just made my heart hurt even more. But I'd done it for the best of reasons. She was now at university, living her best life, enjoying everything it had to offer, new experiences, new lifestyles, new friends, new benefits.
As for me, I was just a lonely old man now, reminiscing about those few months I spent with Zara, how deeply in love we seemed to fall with each other. I just missed her presence in the house, her soft voice in my ear when we'd cuddle on the couch, the way she was with my daughter, having been friends nearly all their lives.
Since that morning, Zara visited our house only rarely, and seemed to ensure that I wasn't there when it happened. I had a feeling my daughter organised it like that. I hadn't spoken to Zara since that morning. I knew I'd made her cry. I knew I broke her heart. I'd broken my own heart at the same time. Hell, I'd fallen apart at my desk when eating lunch, thankful the door to my office was closed as I sobbed, left wondering if I'd done the right thing.
And that thought crept into my mind every single day.
