Page 41 of Made for Reign

“What’s wrong?” I ask, following her gaze to where Lainey is wiping down tables.

“For some reason that waitress looks familiar,” she finishes, tilting her head slightly.

I chuckle, glancing over at Lainey as she moves between tables with practiced ease. “That’s the bride from San Diego. She owns this place.”

Audrey’s eyes widen in surprise. “Really? She looks so young.”

“She is young. Lost her dad a few years back and inherited the diner from him.” I take a sip of my coffee, watching Audrey process this information. “She’s been running it ever since.”

“That’s incredible for someone so young. She can’t be much older than me.”

I lean back in the booth. “Met Marcus through his son, actually. Used to date the kid before she married his dad.”

Audrey nearly chokes on her coffee. “She dated his son and then married his father?”

“Yep. Complicated as hell, but it worked out in the end. Axel’s grown up now, doing his own thing. Marcus and Lainey are happy.” I shrug. “Sometimes the heart wants what it wants, no matter how messy it looks from the outside.”

“That’s...” she pauses, clearly trying to wrap her head around the family dynamics. “Definitely complicated.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t know her growing up. You’re about the same age, and Cooper Heights isn’t that big.”

“I went to private school. Didn’t really mix with the local kids much.” She glances around the diner again. “But I do remember this place. My dad used to bring me here sometimes when I was little. Every Saturday morning before my riding lessons. He’d order black coffee and wheat toast, and I’d get chocolate chip pancakes with extra whipped cream.”

“Oh yeah?”

“He’d let me put quarters in the jukebox,” she continues, gesturing toward the vintage machine in the corner. “I always picked the same song—‘Sweet Caroline’ by Neil Diamond. He’d sing along, completely off-key, and I thought he was the best singer in the world.”

A soft smile plays on her lips at the memory. “Those were some of my favorite times with him. Just the two of us, no cameras, no reporters, no expectations. He always did his best to keep me out of the spotlight, you know? To give me as normal a childhood as possible despite everything.”

I watch her face as she speaks, noting the way her expression softens when she talks about her father. There’s real love there, real grief. It makes me understand her situation better. This isn’t just about family duty or money. It’s about honoring the memory of someone who clearly meant everything to her.

“He sounds like a good dad,” I say.

Her smile falters slightly. “He was. The best. He died of cancer two years ago.”

I remember when Arthur Worthington died. It was front page news for weeks. The entire town shut down for his funeral. Half the state showed up to pay their respects.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” I say, meaning it. “It’s so tough to lose a parent. Especially when you’re young.”

“It was.” She stares down at her coffee, her fingers wrapped around the mug like she’s trying to absorb its warmth. “Hefought for almost a year. I spent every day I could at the hospital with him.”

“What about your mom? Did she help you through it?”

Audrey’s expression shifts, becoming more guarded. “My mother died giving birth to me. My dad married my stepmother, Lucille, when I was twelve.”

“That must have been an adjustment.”

“That’s one way to put it.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “My friends give me a hard time about her sometimes.”

“Why’s that?”

“This whole debt thing is sort of Lucille’s fault. My dad took out loans to maintain her lifestyle. The shopping, the trips, the constant renovations to the house. He never could say no to her.”

I feel my jaw clench at the image of some gold-digging stepmother bleeding Arthur Worthington dry, but I keep my expression neutral. The last thing Audrey needs is judgment from me.

“But he loved her so much,” she continues, her voice breaking slightly. “And that made me happy, even when things got complicated. He deserved to be happy after losing my mom. I just wanted him to be happy.”

Her voice cracks on the last word, and I see tears starting to form in her eyes.

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