Gray's phone buzzed again. Mandy had replied: "Does that extend to taking a beautiful woman out for a drink? Tonight's my night off."

He actually smiled. Widely. Her audacity was impressive. He'd take the bait. If it was boring, he'd bail as usual.

"Sure. There's a pub a block from your steakhouse. Meet me there in an hour?"

"It's a bit of a commute for me, so make it two," she replied, followed by a second text: "See you then, handsome."

It was gratifying to be praised, regardless of the source. His other dates had been more interested in his money than his looks. He preferred the latter; it was marginally less shallow.

Two hours later, Gray sat at the bar, waiting. She was ten minutes late. A "bit of a commute," indeed.

"I'm so sorry I'm late. I missed my connecting train," Mandy said breathlessly, rushing in.

Her subtly highlighted dark brown hair was windblown, and she wore a slightly frayed gray wool coat over navy blue slacks. Her appearance was neat and pretty, but her clothes were clearly inexpensive.

"That's alright," Gray said, surprised by his subdued, natural tone. Why bother with his usual persona? He didn't want to with her.

Maybe this was the key. He needed to be himself with his dates, to see if they liked him without the Graydon Meyer act. If he even knew what that "real self" entailed anymore.

Mandy smiled at him—a warm, familiar smile. But who smiled at him so genuinely? That wasn't part of his life.

"So," she began, "do you normally go by Mike or Michael?"

Gray was startled. Though he'd been using his real name since prison, he only interacted with underworld associates helping him rebuild, and Aaron. Both called him Gray. As a child, he'd been Mikey, then Michael, then Graydon in college. No one had ever called him Mike.

"Actually, I normally go by Gray," he admitted. "But please call me whatever you're comfortable with."

Mandy tilted her head. "Gray, huh? I've never met someone who goes by their last name only. But who am I to judge? My name is Amanda, but I've always gone by Mandy. It's a bit sad to never be called by your first name. I think I'll call you Michael."

Gray couldn't read her. No one had ever talked to him like this. His associates didn't behave this way.

"This is random," she said, "but did you go to MIT on a full-ride scholarship in 2002?"

His surprise intensified. This woman knew him—the real him, before Graydon Meyer. Michael Gray had been a nobody. Who would remember him from high school?

His expression must have given him away, because Mandy clapped her hands together. He was even more confused.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed. "You're my Mikey!"

"You're the kid from my last foster home," Gray said faintly.

His mind reeled. He'd been thinking about her during dinner with Aaron, and she'd been their waitress? The odds were astronomical.

That foster home had been in Queens. He'd moved around the five boroughs then; no one wanted him. Apparently, Mandy had stayed in New York City after he left, or maybe she'd returned, like him.

It was astounding that she'd remembered him, recognized him from his credit card. Had she left her number because she remembered him?

If so…Mandy wasn't a gold digger. She cared about Michael Gray, the abandoned foster kid.

Gray couldn't comprehend it. She'd said he was nice years ago, but she'd been the one to pull away. Why meet him now?

"I don't understand," he said, frowning. "You remembered me and still wanted to meet? Was that why you left your number?"

Mandy nodded, her eyes shining. "Of course! I always wondered what happened to you. It broke my heart when you left for college."

She was serious. His leaving broke her heart? It was impossible; nobody cared that much—not since his mother died. He ached to know what she was thinking.

If she'd wondered about him all those years, it meant that during his loneliness, someone had cared. All those fake relationships, those meaningless flings…and someone hadn't wanted Michael Gray to disappear.

Gray narrowed his eyes. This was too good to be true. He'd longed for a relationship like Aaron's, and someone who'd cared for him had fallen from the sky?

"Then why did you stop clinging to me after I got my acceptance letter?" he asked accusingly.

She coughed, embarrassed. "Well, you'd just told me you were leaving and never coming back. I was mad at you. In my five-year-old mind, I figured you'd give in to my tantrum. Obviously, I was wrong, but I was devastated. Actually…those foster parents tried to kick me out six months later, and I put up a big fuss because if I moved, you wouldn't know where to find me if you ever came back. Silly, huh? I really loved you back then."

He felt a pang of something he hadn't felt in years. Mandy had loved him. He'd had no idea; he'd forgotten what being loved felt like.

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