Chapter 39

I looked around nervously, as if afraid that someone might overhear. On a Sunday night, the place was slow and there was no one around.

"I don't know," I replied. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

That drew an amused chuckle from both of us.

"I'm a heartbreaker, you know," McKayla said suddenly. The usual playfulness was gone from her voice. "Commitment is something I'm not good at. I don't do relationships."

It took me a second to absorb her words. Was she trying to defend herself from me? Or was she warning me?

"And I don't do girls," I said, trying my best to imitate her dry smile. "But you'd better know this: I'm not going to be just another notch on your bedpost."

We both managed a forced laugh. That seemed to break the tension between us. At least for the time being. Really, all it did was put it on the back burner.

The entrees came and we started to talk. Even though we had known each other for several months, being out with her alone was like meeting someone for the very first time. We started with the basics.

"How did your parents come up with a name like Paige?" she asked me at one point.

Easy question. I had fielded this one many times over the years. "My parents were dorks. They named me, my sister and my brother after characters in some books they liked."

"I didn't know you had any siblings."

"Yeah," I shrugged. "I'm the oldest."

"What are their names?" McKayla asked.

"Brin and Ander."

"Interesting..." Her voice trailed off and I saw what may have been a flash of recognition in her eyes.

"What about you?" I asked.

"My father wanted to name me Michael if I was a boy, and Mom wouldn't let him name me Michelle. Something about a psycho ex-girlfriend she didn't like," McKayla smiled and took a sip of her wine. "So they were going to name me M-I-C-H-A-E-L-A, but Mom convinced Dad that I needed a special name, so they switched the spelling to make my name 'unique'."

"Didn't you hate that when you were a kid?" I gave her a knowing smile. "You know, you can never find pencils—"

"Or keychains—"

"Or bicycle license plates—"

"Or shirts—"

"And don't you hate having to spell your name for everyone?"

We laughed together at our shared childhood experience.

"Speaking of spelling," McKayla said. "There's a "Y" instead of an "I" in your name, right?"

"Yup," I replied. "That's how it's spelled it in the book even though you say it like 'Paige'. And don't you hate it when people try and shorten your name? Being called 'Amber' always pisses me off."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Don't call me 'Kay' or 'Kayla' or 'Mickey'. Gawd, I hate that," she rolled her eyes, "I used to hate my name, too, though after a while I thought it was cool. It makes me special. And not in the short bus kind of way. It sure beats being just another Tiffany, Catherine or Sally, doesn't it?"

"Exactly," I replied warmly. My mind drifted off for a second. I started to say something else, but stopped.

"What is it?" McKayla asked, looking suddenly concerned.

"Nothing." I said, looking away.

It dawned on her just then. Her eyes got real wide. "You said, 'were'. Are your parents? ... Oh, my god ... I'm so sorry."

I smiled reflexively and shrugged. This had become an automatic response for me. "It's okay. You didn't know."

"How?" she started. "No, wait, that's none of my business."

The uncomfortable silence came back.