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Of me. Of Cutter.
A picture of Cutter and I making out.
Maryanne stands in my kitchen, hands on her hips.
I’m scrolling through social media like a teenager with their time accessing it.
It’s completely overwhelming.
The pictures. There more than a few of me. Of Cutter. Of us together.
Then the comments from people. From strangers!
People calling me a whore? I’m a whore? Because Cutter isn’t playing baseball? It’s my fault that his shoulder got hurt?
A hand appears over my phone and Maryanne pulls it from my hands.
My finger swipes at the air a few times…
“Piper, let’s talk about this,” she says.
“Saxon,” I say. “I need to know if there are pictures of my son online. I never wanted this for him. I never… I can’t…”
“It’s going to be okay, Piper. It’s just some paparazzi stuff.”
“Paparazzi? Who am I? I’m not worthy of the freaking paparazzi!”
“Where is Cutter now? Is he here?”
“Why would he be here?” I defensively ask.
Maryanne tilts her head. “You do know I have cameras out back, right? Motion sensor. For the birds. I got a notification of something big moving through the yard. Thought it was a bear. Nope. It was a hunky baseball player.”
My cheeks are lit on fire.
I’m busted all the way around here.
See! This is what I get for trying to enjoy some hot, casual sex!
My phone rings.
“Hunter,” I say out loud.
“Hunter?” Maryanne asks. “As in Saxon’s father?”
I walk from the kitchen to the dining room to take the call.
“Hello?” I ask in a very confused voice.
“Is this really you?” Hunter asks.
“Huh?”
“These pictures. I have people sending me pictures of you. You and Cutter Buckley? The baseball player. Is this for real, Piper?”
My mouth goes dry. I swallow hard. “I don’t know what’s going on right now, Hunter.”
“I can tell you what’s going on,” he says. “You’re out screwing around with some washed-up baseball player. And someone’s been following you, taking pictures. Where the hell is our son in all this? Has he met this guy?”
