‘Making the beast with two backs’, as Shakespeare would say. My hands start shaking again. Hell. Holy crap. This can’t be happening. “Kenya!” Sasha gasps, grabbing for the blankets and covering herself. Her long, straight black hair curtains half her face. Big brown eyes, soft and soulful like her Mexican grandmother, dart to the ground. “Kenya?” That voice belongs to my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend as of now.
