“You knew? How long did you know?” I blurt out, my blood cooling.

“Right when I got to NBC, basically,” Donovan said, still quiet and a flood of despair floods my lungs, stealing their air capacity.

”It doesn’t change what I think about you, or how I feel,” he adds, gesturing like he wants to reach across the table to grab my hand, but stops short.

I can’t tell if I want to reach for his hand or not because I don’t know if it would ...