there anything you miss?”
“Not if I can help it. So did you get the man’s name?”
“No. Should I have? We weren’t contemplating marriage,” she said dryly.
“I’m just curious. And I’ll take the rest of those lemon sours, if you’re done shredding the bag.”
Gina took a breath and handed the bag back to Tobias. “Do you have boxes of these stashed somewhere? They’re imported from France, so you can’t just pick them up at the local Wal-Mart.”
“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” His lips curved faintly. “So they say.”
“When are you going to tell me the truth, Tobias? Were you Delta Force or a Green Beret?”
The security chief moved his fingers over the single photo on his desk. It was a shot of a woman at a distance, her face blurred by the sunlight pouring over the mountain at her back. The thick trees could have been in Mississippi or Connecticut or Guatemala. Gina had often wanted to ask about the woman, but Tobias wasn’t the sort of man you crowded with personal questions.
“What I was doesn’t matter. It’s over. That me is dead.” He sat up stiffly as if the words had surprised him. “Stop changing the subject.”
“Fine. I’ll eat. I’ll sleep. I’ll be more careful in the future.” And I’ll learn to lie a whole lot better, too.
Keen eyes swept her face. “Pressure is part of the job. You’ve dealt with it before without any problem. Something’s different now.”
No kidding.
Now my eyes ache and I keep failing my peripheral vision tests. Occasionally colors blur and lines of print wobble. “Nothing important, I promise you.”
The dramatically handsome security officer leaned back in his chair. He straightened a pen and pencil near his phone, then looked up. “That’s bullshit and we both know it.”
No fooling Tobias, Gina thought glumly. But she said nothing. If he reported her as unable to work, she’d have to appear for a medical evaluation, and any serious exam would reveal anomalies in her last set of vision tests. It would only be a matter of time before her condition went on record for personnel and everyone else to see.
No way. This chef was going to die in the saddle. What else could she do but cook? Once upon a time she’d had a different job back in Seattle. She’d been damned good at the job, too.
Ancient history.
Gina knew she’d go crazy if she had to stare at her hands and do nothing while she waited for the color loss and double vision that signaled final optic nerve deterioration.
So she had to lie through her teeth and convince Tobias she was in perfect shape to work. Not that it was a lie; the day she couldn’t do her job was the day she’d turn in her resignation.
Of course it was never a good idea to have a blind person working near an open fire.
Tobias leaned back in his chair. “Stop that.”
“What?”
“Trying to cook up a lie. It won’t work. You know, I thought we were friends. Friends don’t lie to friends.”
Yeah, they were friends. They’d shared some bad jokes during awful storms at sea. They had worked together for five years on more cruises than Gina could count, and they spent Thursday nights playing poker in a secret, rotating location with only select crew in attendance. She counted Tobias as a true friend.
But some things you didn’t share.
After her dad’s death, Gina’s mother had flaked out completely. Unable to function, she’d lived on medications that left her half asleep most of the day. She hadn’t accepted what was going on around her. Instead, she’d built a wall of denial and vanished behind it.
That wasn’t happening to Gina.
Tobias had a right to expect the truth from her, but friendship had its limits. How did you tell a friend that you were going blind? That the meds were working, but only to a point and one morning you’d wake up to see shadows and squiggles. About that time Gina’s color vision would become unreliable. Outlines would blur and the headaches would ratchet up.
She closed her eyes. Dear God, she needed more time. How could she break the news to someone else when she still hadn’t come to grips with it?
“No more evasions.” His voice was rough with concern. “Damn it, Gina, I want to help but I don’t know how.”
It was his baffled anger that finally cut through her defenses. Pity or concern she would have dismissed easily, but anger was something she understood too well. Anger had become her closest companion in the past few months. Little things, nothing things, left her shaken and furious.
Meanwhile, Tobias wouldn’t let go until he had answers.
“It’s personal, Tobias. I have to deal with this myself.”
His eyes narrowed. “Personal how? Blaine trouble?”
Blaine. He thought that was her big problem. If only he were right.
Gina cleared her throat. “I’d rather not discuss it.”
He didn’t move, didn’t speak.
She didn’t try to make up a story. The man would spot it in a second. “If things get desperate, I’ll come to you—I promise.” That was true. Tobias was the only one she could trust. Her staff was too emotional. They would worry and intervene and hover. They’d want medical details and the name of her doctor. They’d need to try to change what couldn’t be changed.
Only Tobias would be cool and practical. Gina needed that if she was going to face the truth, not live on wishes and impossible hopes for a cure.
Her throat was raw. She locked her hands, trying to stay calm.
“Here.” He held out a white handkerchief. “Your cheek is bleeding again.”
She took the soft cloth, feeling her cheek burn as the soft cotton pressed against her skin. “If things change, you’ll be the first to know. Isn’t that enough?”
“I guess it will have to be. I know you keep your promises. But we can’t avoid this conversation forever.”
Gina took a long, rasping breath, feeling lost and afraid of the future. It was past time she faced that future.
All at once, she blurted out the words that couldn’t be trapped inside any longer. They fought her, demanding to be heard, demanding an honesty that felt like sandpaper on an open wound.
“I’m…going blind, Tobias. That’s pretty much it, soup to nuts. It’s a nerve degeneration problem and I’ve got meds to slow it down, but there’s no cavalry over the hill and no cure in sight.” She sat stiffly. “I didn’t want to tell you. Now if you don’t mind—I think I’m going to throw up.”
“Head between
