The next night, Ethan took me on a romantic date. He picked the same restaurant he'd taken me to before. Partway through the night, I asked why.
“I know we've gone out to fancy dinners and such,” Ethan said, “but those were part of the whole “Dr. Angel” charade.”
“Yeah,” I said. Then I admitted, “I liked being Dr. Angel. Everyone respected me. It was nice.”
“You deserve to be respected as yourself,” Ethan said. “But you can keep calling yourself Dr. Angel at the hospital, or use your real name, whichever you feel is best.”
“I'm not sure,” I said. “If I change it, won't we have to explain why?”
“Nope. You don't owe anyone answers. You want to be Angel, you're Angel. You want to be Tessa, you're Tessa.”
“I could be Tessa Angel? My Mom has two names, because she's human. I could do like
