Victoria sat beside Jay in the sterile hospital waiting room, her hands clasped around a lukewarm coffee cup she didn't remember buying. Her sister sat with her head bowed, staring at the phone cradled in her lap as if willing it to bring good news. The ambient sounds of nurses' chatter and the occasional squeak of rubber-soled shoes filled the air, but Victoria's mind was far away.
When Jay first mentioned Tony, Victoria had been skeptical. No, skeptical was too polite. She'd been downright hostile to the idea. A man almost fifteen years older than her sister? It screamed midlife crisis on his part or some naïve infatuation on hers. She remembered vividly the arguments—the hushed, biting conversations over Sunday brunch, their mother quietly sipping her tea to avoid taking sides.
"Jay, what could you possibly have in common with a man who was in high school when you were still playing with Barbie dolls?" Victoria had snapped once, her voice dripping with incredulity. "He's not even close to being in the same stage of life as you!"
Jay, ever fiery, had shot back with her usual passion using her personal nick name for Victoria. "We have plenty in common, Charlie. And just because he's older doesn't mean he doesn't understand me. God forbid someone actually treats me like an adult!"
At the time, Victoria had rolled her eyes at the nick name she hated but had was resigned to it's use, muttering something about "guys who date younger women," convinced Tony would be another disappointment in a long line of Jay's bad choices. She had braced herself for the inevitable: a whirlwind romance followed by tears and heartbreak.
But Tony wasn't like anyone Jay had dated before. Over time, Victoria had seen the quiet patience with which he listened to Jay's animated stories, the way he supported her goals without overshadowing her dreams. She had watched him hold his ground during their family debates, never condescending but also never shrinking from her fiery sister's sharp tongue. Most importantly, she had seen how he looked at Jay—not just with affection, but with pride and genuine respect.
That shift in perception hadn't come easily. Victoria had been stubborn, convinced she was protecting Jay from a mistake. But the moment it all changed was seared into her memory. A few months back, when their mother had been sick and admitted to the hospital, it had been Tony who showed up unprompted, bringing snacks, keeping Jay calm, and even staying late to help with forms.
"You didn't have to do all this," Victoria had said that night, her defenses slipping for the first time. "She's not even your mom."
Tony had smiled, his expression soft. "She's important to Jay. That makes her important to me."
Now, watching Jay crumble in this waiting room, her fiery sister reduced to a frightened woman trying to hold herself together, Victoria felt a deep pang of gratitude. Tony wasn't just someone who loved Jay. He grounded her, supported her, and made her better. And as much as Victoria had resisted at first, she realized he had become part of her life too.
She glanced at Jay, whose shoulders were trembling slightly as she wiped away tears. "He's going to be okay, Jay," Victoria said, her voice soft but steady. "Tony's a fighter. If anyone can pull through this, it's him."
Jay sniffled, giving a shaky nod. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost him, Charlie."
"You won't," Victoria said firmly, reaching over to squeeze her sister's hand. "And for what it's worth? I'm glad he's in your life. I really am."
Jay looked up at her, surprised by the admission. Victoria just smiled faintly, squeezing her hand again.
In that moment, Victoria realized something she hadn't put into words until now: she didn't just like Tony because he made Jay happy. She liked him because he had become part of their family, and part of her own life too. And as she sat there waiting for answers, the idea of losing him felt just as unbearable as it did for her sister.
As Victoria sat with her trembling sister, fragments of the past drifted through her mind.
One memory stood out sharply against the others. It was a family barbecue a few months ago—Jay's idea, of course. Their whole extended family had shown up, kids screaming, music blaring, and everyone talking over each other. Victoria had already been on edge, trying to keep her younger cousins out of trouble, and Jay was, as usual, the center of attention, making jokes and pulling Tony into conversations with people he barely knew.
At one point, their youngest cousin, Miguel, a hyperactive seven-year-old with a penchant for chaos, had accidentally spilled an entire plate of barbecue sauce onto Victoria's favorite white sneakers. She had been seconds away from snapping when Tony appeared out of nowhere, crouching down to Miguel's eye level.
"Hey, buddy," Tony said with a calm, easy smile. "You know what? I think we can fix this."
Miguel had looked up at him with wide eyes, clearly expecting to be scolded, but Tony had simply taken him to the kitchen, grabbed a sponge and some soap, and taught him how to clean the shoes. Later, when Miguel proudly returned with her sneakers—mostly clean but slightly damp—Victoria had been stunned. No lectures, no drama, just quiet patience and a gentle lesson.
That small moment stayed with her. It wasn't flashy or performative. Tony hadn't done it to impress anyone. He had simply seen a kid in trouble and helped.
Then there was the time he showed up to help their mother with her garden. Their mom loved her garden but hated the heavy lifting that came with it. Without being asked, Tony had arrived with a truck full of supplies, spent hours digging, planting, and weeding, and left with barely a word about his efforts.
Victoria had watched him from the kitchen window that day, arms crossed, searching for signs that this was an act. Instead, all she saw was a man who genuinely cared.
And then there was the day Jay lost her job. Victoria had expected a meltdown—Jay wasn't one to handle setbacks gracefully. Instead, she'd been oddly calm, even optimistic, about what was next. When Victoria asked her why, Jay had shrugged and said, "Tony's been through worse. He says it's just a detour, not the end."
It was the quiet consistency, Victoria realized now. Tony wasn't flashy or showy about his love for Jay. He didn't try to win people over with charm or grand gestures. He just... showed up, time and time again, proving himself in the moments that mattered most.
As Victoria sat in the waiting room, her coffee long forgotten, she let out a slow breath. She turned to her sister, who was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.
"You know," Victoria said softly, "I used to think he wasn't good enough for you."
Jay blinked, startled by the sudden confession. "Wow, thanks, Charlie. Great time to bring that up."
"No, listen," Victoria said, leaning forward. "I was wrong. I thought you were too young, or that he wouldn't take you seriously. But Tony's... he's a good man, Jay. He loves you in a way I've never seen anyone love you before. And I love that he's in your life. I love that he's in mine."
Jay's lips wavered, and for a moment, it seemed like she might burst into tears again. Instead, she gave a small, shaky laugh. "You know, you're a lot better at this emotional stuff than I thought."
Victoria snorted, rolling her eyes. "Don't get used to it."
But as she looked back toward the room where Tony lay, a thought settled firmly in her mind: the world felt better with him in it. For Jay. For herself. For all of them.