Gwen stared at her desk in silent shock when she finally reached the hub. She’d had a bad morning so far — got up late, she’d skipped breakfast and then got stuck in traffic.
She’d dumped her bag by her desk and put her jacket on the back of her chair before seeing the envelope and red rose that were on her desk.
She had no doubt who it was from.
Owen himself was nowhere to be seen — probably hiding down in the autopsy room. But why? Why this? They had been finished for a long while now — her attention on him had dwindled after she found he’d slept with Suzie as well, and knowing about Diane now, she’d called it off.
Slowly sitting, Gwen reached for the rose. It was a deep, gorgeous red, the petals like silk. It certainly didn’t look like one picked up cheap, at any rate.
Placing the rose back down, she picked up the envelope. He’d written her name carefully in black ink, a style of writing that she’d not known he could write. Then again, she’d never seen more of his writing than his scribbling notes on whatever it was he was working on.
She opened the envelope and slipped out a small piece of paper. She looked confused, her brows furrowing, before realising the writing was on the back. Four words.
That confused her even more. Sorry? For what? She craned her neck to find out if she could see to the Autopsy Room, but she couldn’t. Well, there was only one thing for it. She stood up and picked up the Rose, holding that and the letter in her hands, and started to walk with butterflies in her stomach.