You knew you made the best choice of your life when you said "yes" to her that night in your apartment after a few glasses of wine and long, deep conversations. Cate was different, to say the least—she was the most interesting person you had the good fortune to meet.

The memory of the pain of your first tattoo was still fresh in your mind—just like the warmth of meeting the tattoo artist who looked at you with the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen. Cate spared no effort to win you over, even though you considered yourself won over from the moment you first saw her.

It was a surreal, almost divine connection, she couldn't remember the last person who trusted her until you came along—the one who didn't care whether or not she was wearing her gloves, you were never afraid of her. The angel she was more than happy to worship, you.

Just one year and you had already gotten used to her smell on your clothes, her hand on your waist while you slept, her good morning kiss and her smirk when she showed up at your apartment in the middle of the night—because she'd rather sleep clinging to you than with an old pillow at her house. It would never be a cause for complaint, not when she gave you good reasons for breaking into your house.

On the morning of your anniversary, she brought you breakfast in bed, flowers, and her usual warm smile—she took the day off, just lying in bed with you, kissing you, reminding you of the thousand and one reasons why this was the best thing in her life. “You know, I've kind of already thought of a nice gift...” Cate whispered, her face against your neck as she placed a loving kiss on the sensitive skin with each word spoken. “Let's get matching tattoos, hm?”

She knew it was a cheesy idea—the kind of thing that very much in love (and cheesy) couples did. Well, she liked being cheesy with you... and being in love with you. “I'll mark you as mine,” she whispered again, lifting her face just enough to look you in the eyes and leave a kiss on your chin. “And you'll mark me as yours.”