|| Love to Hate Me ||

{Thirty-Nine}

Five months had passed since Liana left Harlan standing in that terminal in Dallas. She had an idea of where he was going, but didn't know for sure until pictures surfaced of Harlan standing outside a rehabilitation center in California with his middle finger held high in the air. She was pleased he hadn't changed too much. She missed him—more than anything, she missed him.

As much as she didn't want to let him go, she was glad that she had. Nothing was more important than Harlan's state of mind, even if that meant she wasn't apart of it.

He was released from the facility two months prior—he had yet to reach out to her. She was beginning to come to terms with his absence. It was clear that Harlan no longer wanted any part of Liana in his life. As much as it pained her to let him go, she knew it was best—she knew that Harlan needed to figure himself out.

She couldn't help but to be spiteful—she was upset he had kept her waiting for as long as he had. The least he could've done was left a shitty text message calling off her "waiting" for him.

She made her way down the stairs, ignoring the persistent meowing of her mother's cat that circled around her feet. Liana groaned, wanting to nudge "Ziggy" out of the way, but told herself that it was her mother's cat.

Liana had brushed her teeth, but nothing more. Wearing only an oversized sweater and underwear, she trailed to the coffee pot in a sleepy daze.

She sighed loudly, finally nudging the cat out of the way with her foot as she rummaged, trying to make coffee.

"Mom!... What do you want me to feed Zig?... Mom!" Liana groaned, cursing under her breath. She looked down at the Maine Coon feline with a smirk. "You're gonna eat whatever I give you, huh?" She winked.

The damn cat was like a dog—one single taste of a hotdog had turned the feline into a hungry beast with only a taste for "human" food.

Liana poured herself a cup of coffee, her phone going off insistently, buzzing loudly against the surface of the counter. She glanced at the clock, confused. Typically, demanding phone calls didn't start coming in until around noon, it was only 9am.

Her brows furrowed, reaching for her cell.

Cal______
Call me
Call me ASAP

Mark____
Ur bf's on tv

Liana's mouth dropped when reading Mark's text. Ignoring her manager's request of calling immediately, Liana raced into the living room, searching for the remote. She turned on the television, quickly texting Mark.

Mark_____
Ur bf's on tv

Waht channel
What* channel?

Liana's heart was pounding away as she waited impatiently for Mark to reply. He wasn't typing fast enough, she had already corrected her own grammatically error before his response.

Mark______
Idk whatever channel
GMA comes on

Mark finally messaged back. It seemed like it took forever, but it had only been one minute; the evidence was right on the time stamp.

Liana frantically changed channels until finally, by a stroke of luck, a description appeared beneath one of the daily weekday programs: