37.
In the wee hours in his apartment, a shirtless Ethan drinks cool water. He presents Milly with a flat, wrapped gift that crinkles as it flops over.
She sits up in bed, under his sheet, curiously tilting her head.
He shrugs. “Just a little something.”
“How did you know?”
“Know what?”
Milly tears open the gift wrap, revealing a T-shirt printed with an image of a snake, its body curled in the shape of a grooved vinyl record. She smiles weakly.
“Don’t you like it? They have snakes in the desert, right? And you like records …”
“Yes. I’m just not accustomed to gifts—”
“Really?”
“Like this.” Milly slips on the T-shirt. “But it fits. It’s thoughtful.” She bats her lashes — “I like your present.” — then outstretches her arms. “Now you unwrap it.”