Katherine,” he says when we finish. We’re breathing each other’s air and lying side by side, our noses almost touching.“Mick,” I say.“I love your name. It suits you perfectly. Katherine. Katherine. Katherine and Mick.”And when he says my name like that, right next to his, everything is different. I’ve never really liked being called Katherine—all this time, despite what I’ve said, I’ve desperately missed being called Katie. I’ve missed being Katie.But I’m no longer Katie, I’m Katherine—and tonight, for the first time ever, I don’t want to be anyone else.
~ Rebecca James
