"My designs met all the requirements on the first submission. The approval timeline is public record, as are every permit, application, and inspection results," I countered.
Whitaker delivered his final blow as if he'd waited for this moment. "The question remains whether your carefulcarelessness invited this attack. I think we should consider whether you're the right fit for our community's needs."
The room was uncomfortably silent. My vision blurred slightly as I struggled to maintain my composure.
"The arson attempts targeted multiple buildings in this town and were not invited by anyone. They are criminal acts being investigated by law enforcement. Now, if you'd like to discuss the actual design in progress of the community center renovation, I'd be happy to continue. Otherwise, I believe I have addressed the security concerns, as requested," I stated, my voice firm.
Mayor Thompson cleared her throat. "Thank you, Ms. Daniels. I believe the security questions were covered adequately. If you could leave the updated plans with the clerk, they will review them and reach out with any additional questions."
I nodded, gathering my materials. "Thank you."
I made my exit and delivered the plans to the clerk. I didn't look back, because if I did, I might've shattered right there in front of everyone. I barely made it away from the clerk as I walked down the hallway, looking for somewhere private. I needed to hold it together for thirty more seconds. I ducked around a corner and pressed my back against the cool wall.
Councilman Whitaker's attack had been personal and undermining to my very presence in this town, the way he deliberately called me the wrong name, questioned my confidence, and insinuated I invited danger to their community. That shit was straight from the "How to Make a Black Woman Feel Uncomfortable" playbook.
My phone buzzed, startling me out of my thoughts. I pulled it out of my pocket. It was a text from Liam.
Liam:
Meet me at my truck.
I wiped under my eyes, making sure I hadn't smudged my mascara. I didn't wanna give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me looking defeated. I straightened my shoulders, tucked my portfolio under my arm, and headed toward the exit. The parking lot was half empty, and Liam's pickup was parked in the far corner. He leaned against the driver's side door, still in his uniform from his earlier shift. As I approached, he scanned my face. He didn't ask if I was okay. We both knew I wasn't. Liam opened the passenger door for me, waited until I got inside, and then gently closed it.
We drove to his house — well, our house now, at least temporarily. I stared out the window, looking at Goodwin Grove. Liam drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the console between us. He turned his palm up as an invitation, and I placed my hand in his.
"Whitaker is an ass, but today, he crossed the line," Liam said in a voice that told me he was more upset than he'd let on.
"Yeah." I couldn't say more than that single syllable without breaking down completely.
"Mayor Thompson looked like she was ready to strangle him by the end, though."
I nodded. Ten minutes later, we pulled into Liam's driveway, and the house I shared with him for less than a week already felt more like a home than my apartment ever had. I suspect it was the safety it represented, or maybe the way his presence filled the space.
I made it all the way inside before the first tear spilled over, then another and another. I pressed my palm to my mouth,but it was too late. The wall I built to get through that meeting crumbled.
"I've never been so humiliated. Years of education, three major renovations, and an award from the American Institute of Architects, and that man made me sound like a clueless city girl who wandered into Goodwin Grove, and accidentally invited an arsonist to the party," I admitted.
Liam wrapped his strong arms around me in an instant, pulling me against the solid warmth of his body. I allowed him to hold me as I pressed my face into the crisp fabric of his uniform shirt. My tears soaked through to his skin.
"This isn't about you. Whitaker had it out for the project from the start," Liam said.
"I can't tell. It feels pretty damn personal."
"It's about control. His buddy is an architect, and he wanted him to get that job. He can't stand something big is happening without his fingerprints all over it."
"Really?" I asked, and Liam nodded his head.
What Liam said was right yet doubt crept into my confidence. "What if he's right, though? What if I missed something?" I asked.
Liam pulled back enough to look into my eyes. "Your security plan is solid. I reviewed it myself. No one could've predicted a serial arsonist would target the site."
Liam didn't offer false assurances. His voice steadied me. If he said my plans were solid, they were. I wiped my eyes, embarrassed now at the breakdown. "I don't normally fall apart like this."
Liam brushed a tear from my cheek with his thumb. "Don't apologize. And for the record, if this is what you look like when you're falling apart, you look a hell of a lot better than most people do on their best day."
His remark pulled a wet laugh from me. "Oh, you didn't see my mascara situation before I came out to your car."
"It wouldn't have mattered, but I'm glad you stood your ground against that asshole. I was proud to be standing there watching you."
