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“Denise slipped you an Ambien.”
“That explains the dream I had.”
“What dream?”
“I heard a noise. I woke up. I walked out here, and there—” Nick stopped. At the end of the bar, where he had hugged his father, there was a New York Mets cap. “Where did this hat come from?” he asked.
“It was here when I walked in. I thought it was yours.”
“It’s not.”
“Whose is it?”
“I think it was my dad’s.”
Kenny was worried. “Stay here, I’m going to make you some coffee.” But when he returned with the pot—Nick was gone.
