My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”
-Romeo and Juliet, Scene V
I can’t say that my romance was as be-all and end-all as that of those two star-crossed lovers, but then again, how would you know if you weren’t there? After all, that has always been one of my favorites, and it suits my story because he’s a hand surgeon and I’m a certified hand therapist. So, palm-to-palm, aw you get it.
I met him in the most grueling internship of my life, and our love was storm-tossed. Wind-swept? Whatever. I’ve never been the best at words, but thank goodness we were both more inclined to use our mouths for other purposes.
Now it’s ten years later and we’re both in our thirties, and good Lord, the years have been good to my little ginger surgery jock. I’d go to bed with him, but he says he’s with someone now. A man. Is it going to throw a wrench into the works, he’s asking me, or can we all just have a grand ‘ol time together?
Well, can we?