Hilary let out a little snort. “Babe, don’t make yourself sick over it. Nothing we do is set in rock . . . or whatever the saying is.”

“Stone,” I said, gently correcting her. Although Hilary’s English was perfect, she could be forgetful when it came to small details. “It’s true. I know.”

“Look at us. My parents own a dive Chinese takeout place, and your mom worked hard to raise you. By the way, how is your mom?”

“Eh. Hanging in there, but not really herself.”

“Ugh, Al. I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Not wanting to dwell on the negative, I said brightly, “So, do you have big plans for the next few weeks or what?”

“Actually, I have a ton of work, but of course, I’m going to check out some of the local hot spots. You should come visit for a night!”

I reached for the door to the Cathedral of Learning, the epicenter of Pitt’s campus, and said, “You know what? I think you’re right. When this case is over, I’ll come visit.”

“Plus there’s a fabulous outlet here,” Hilary added in a singsong voice.

I laughed. The girl knew me well. “I don’t need any more enticement than to see you, Hil. Listen, I just got to the Cathedral and I have to change. Let’s make a time to FaceTime so I can see your place.”

“I’ll text you, okay?”

“Absolutely! ’Bye, honey.”

She said, “Talk soon,” and I ended the call and headed toward the ladies’ room.

After I tossed on my leggings and T-shirt and toggled the DO NOT DISTURB button on my phone, I plugged in my earbuds and headed for the deserted stairwell. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and letting go of everything in my brain before I began to climb the stairs. One foot after the other, I picked up speed at each landing as “Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin’” blared in my head and sweat beaded at the nape of my neck. This was Pittsburgh, after all; listening to Journey was a birthright, practically a local religion.

Before long my legs quivered and burned, and my lungs worked hard as I climbed higher toward the top of the Cathedral of Learning. Once I reached the top, I’d head for the bottom and do it all over again and again and again. It was quiet and deserted, but I felt safe. I’d been doing this same workout since I began law school at the University of Pittsburgh. It didn’t matter that I’d graduated four years ago; I still ran the steps three times a week.

The dark, cavernous cathedral walls, the stone facade, and the musty smell all felt like home to me. When I used to sit and study over coffee, poring over legal briefs and memorizing case numbers, I’d get lost in the fact that I was actually there, in this legend of a building where the likes of the Carnegies and the Mellons once roamed.

Me, the daughter of a cleaning woman!

Even now that I held down a decent-paying job, I couldn’t shrug the feeling that I was less than everyone else—except when I was actually doing my job. The notion that I was inferior had been pounded into my head since I was my mom’s “little lady” and would sit in the corner of the houses my mom cleaned.

“Here, little girl, this toy is for you,” the woman of the house would say to me, shoving some outdated broken toy into my hands. Her own kids would be baking in their Betty Crocker mini-ovens and shaving ice with their Snoopy snow-cone makers, a mess my mom would clean up for nothing pay. “Go on, you can ask to play with them,” my mom would whisper to me, and I would just shake my head and remain firmly in my corner.

I never wished for that kind of life. I didn’t need opulence or riches, but I could use a tiny dose of getting over my past. Just like Hilary. She was all about moving forward.

“Aly! Hey, Aly!”

I was making my way down the stairs for the second time, wallowing in my self-loathing as my quads strained to keep me upright while I flew down on the balls of my feet. I grabbed the banister to slow my pace and looked up to find Drew Burnes, managing partner of a big law practice downtown, the one and only firm I interviewed at and quickly decided wasn’t for me. Too many river views, expensive lunches, and shifty defenses offered up for my undistinguished, play-by-the-books, get-to-the-bottom-of-everything palate.

I’d “risen above it all.” That was what my last lover said to me about my childhood while sipping drinks together one evening after work. He was “so very impressed by me,” but really his compliment was poorly disguised pity. I never saw him again after that night. I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that pitiful stare.

“Hey!” I yelled back at Drew, my voice booming through the empty stairwells as I pulled out my earbuds.

I liked Drew, though. He was nice enough to back down when I turned down his offer, stayed in touch after recruiting me, and was one of the few people who didn’t look at me like some dirty ragamuffin.

“You started without me? I’m hurt.” He put on a phony pout and pretended to massage a broken heart. He also liked me, and I wasn’t really sure about what to do with that.

“I didn’t really believe you were coming.”

“I never back down from a challenge,” he said as he ran up the stairs, closing the gap between us.

Last week, we’d bumped into each other at the coffee place near the courthouse. While we shared a table, I’d told him about my obsessive stair running, playfully teasing he couldn’t keep up.

“Well, you ready?” I asked. “I have a few more laps up and down in me.”

“Beat you to the top!”

He took off in front of me, giving me a chance to take in his perfectly styled short brown hair, not to mention the outline of his firm leg muscles showing underneath a pair of designer LuLu Lemon track pants.

“No fair, I’ve already been up and down a couple of times,” I yelled after him.

“You’re warmed up and I’m not. You should be whipping my butt.”

I pushed my legs to catch up with him, and we stayed shoulder to shoulder for the remainder of the workout, huffing and puffing, not talking other than an occasional, “Keep it up!” or “Let’s do one more!”

“Shit! That was a lot harder than the elliptical at the gym,” Drew admitted as we cooled down and walked toward the main hall. “By the way, I don’t think you should traipse around here on your own all the time. It’s pretty deserted.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about me. Can I say ‘told you so’ yet? No need for fancy equipment when you have the stairs.” I nabbed my bag from the lockers situated near the elevators and slipped on my sweatshirt.

“So, you want to grab some dinner or something?” he asked as I was pulling the sweatshirt over my head. When I could finally see him, I raised an eyebrow and gave him the stink eye.

“I know, I know. You got me locked in the mentor zone, but I don’t want to just give you professional advice. Come on, one casual dinner? We’re all sweaty . . . it can’t be that formal or painful of an experience. A salad or something?”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Really? You’re giving in? You’re saying yes?”

“I’m saying okay to salad.” I pulled my coat on, zipping it up tight.

“I’ll take it.”

We made our way into the night. It was late February, and the bitter cold slapped me hard in the face as we made our way outside. It should have been a reality check, but Drew wasn’t that bad. What else did I have to do? I didn’t even have a dog waiting for me at home.

Drew flipped my hood over my head and tossed his arm around me, pulling me snug and knocking me out of my thoughts. “Just salad,” he muttered, then asked, “You have a car with you?”

I shook my head inside my big puffy hood. “I took the bus from town straight here.”

“Mine’s right over there.” He pointed toward a shiny black Porsche. Of course. “I’ll drive and then bring you back home.”

“Okay.”

I slid into the soft leather seat, rubbing my hands together to stay warm. There was no sense in pretending that I didn’t live in a shitty apartment. Drew had seen my job application; he knew exactly where I lived. And yet he still wanted to have dinner with me, which was a far cry from sticking me in the corner.