Novels by Jennifer Logan

Emma stopped walking but she didn’t turn around. Her hand stayed on the door handle, fingers stiff, like if she let go she would fall apart right there on the floor.Behind her, the room was quiet. “I’m back,” Liam said.The words landed hard.Emma let out a shaky breath that sounded almost like a laugh. “I thought you were dead.”“I wasn’t,” he replied. His voice was steady. “I faked it.”Her shoulders dropped slightly, like something heavy had finally crushed her instead of hovering. “You faked your death,” she repeated slowly.“Yes.”She swallowed. “Do you know what that did to me?”He didn’t answer immediately.She shook her head, still facing the door. “I watched people talk about you like you were already gone. I had to hear your name used in past tense.”“I know,” he said quietly.“No,” she snapped, her voice rising. “You don’t. Because if you knew, you wouldn’t be standing there saying it like it’s a strategy meeting.”Silence stretched between them. “You left me,” Emma contin

Emma stayed frozen in her chair, her fingers gripping the edge of the table like it was the only solid thing left in the world. Liam was there, standing and breathing. He was real.No one said his name. They didn’t need to. One of the men at the table stood up first. Slowly and respectfully. “Sir,” he said, his voice careful.Another followed immediately, then another. All of them rose to their feet. Liam didn’t look at Emma, not once.He walked past her chair like she wasn’t there. The air shifted when he moved like everyone suddenly remembered who they were dealing with.He took the seat at the center of the table. No one sat until he did.Emma’s heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. She tried to breathe normally. She failed. Her chest felt tight, like it was caving in on itself.Liam folded his hands on the table, calm and controlled. His face gave nothing away. “Sit,” he said.They all sat.Emma remained still for half a second too long. Then she forced herself

The morning felt off from the moment Emma opened her eyes.She lay still for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling, one hand resting on her stomach. The bump was clearer now. She could feel it even before she looked. It grounded her and scared her at the same time.“Okay,” she whispered to herself. “Just get up.”She pushed herself out of bed slowly. Her legs felt weak, like she hadn’t slept at all. She went into the bathroom, splashed water on her face, and stared at her reflection.“You can do this,” she said. Her voice didn’t sound convinced.She dressed carefully. She wore a loose dress and a jacket she hadn’t worn in months. She paused while putting on her shoes, breathing through the tight feeling in her chest.When she stepped into the living room, everyone was already there.Margaret stood near the window, hands clasped together like she was praying without saying the words. Victoria sat on the arm of the couch, watching Emma closely. George stood by the door, jacket already o

Emma lay on the couch with one arm tucked behind her head and the other resting on her stomach. The baby bump was no longer something she could ignore. It curved gently under her shirt, small but firm, like it had claimed its place.She stared at the ceiling, counting nothing. Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She didn’t move and it buzzed again.She sighed and turned her head slowly. The screen lit up with a name.Mia.Emma closed her eyes. “Please,” she murmured. “Not today.”The phone kept vibrating until she couldn’t ignore it anymore.“Okay,” she said quietly, pushing herself up. Her body felt heavy, like gravity had doubled overnight. She reached for the phone and answered without checking her tone.“Mia, I really don’t have the energy—”“Emma,” Mia cut in. “You need to turn on the news now.”Emma frowned. “I’m not doing this today.”“This isn’t gossip,” Mia said quickly. “This is serious.”Emma leaned back into the couch. “Everything has been serious for months.”“I know,”

They chose a small café tucked between a bookstore and a flower shop. It wasn’t fancy, it had warm light, wooden tables, and the quiet sound of people who weren’t trying to do too much.Exactly what they needed.Emma sat with a cup of tea in front of her. Steam curled up from it, carrying the faint smell of ginger and lemon. She wrapped both hands around the cup, not because she wanted to drink it, but because the warmth grounded her. She hadn’t taken a sip since it arrived.Margaret sat to her left, flipping through a paperback she’d brought along, talking about it as if it were the most important thing in the world. Something about the author and another thing of how the ending annoyed her.Victoria disagreed, of course. She always did. “I liked the ending,” she said. “It was realistic.”Margaret scoffed lightly. “Realistic doesn’t mean satisfying.”George sat across from them, listening more than speaking, his coffee untouched. He smiled when Margaret waved her hand dramatically. H

Emma sat on the couch with her legs pulled up, her chin resting on her knees. Her arms were wrapped loosely around herself, like she was afraid she might fall apart if she let go. She wasn’t crying, she hadn’t cried since yesterday afternoon, when her chest hurt so badly she thought she might choke on it.Now her eyes felt dry and empty like she had already given everything she had.Margaret sat beside her, knitting slowly. The needles clicked together in a steady rhythm, soft but constant. It was the kind of sound that usually felt comforting. Today, it just filled the silence so it wouldn’t feel too loud.Victoria stood by the window with her arms folded, staring out at the garden. The flowers were blooming brightly, like nothing in the world had gone wrong. She watched them without really seeing them.George sat across from Emma on the low chair, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His hands were clasped together so tightly his knuckles looked pale, he hadn’t moved in