The screen shows a statue of a man on a horse, and when I look up, the same bronze catches my eye, only I’m seeing the opposite side. My pulse spikes, my feet once again moving before I’ve decided what to do. But I’ve come this far, and all he’d have to do is look at my profile to see I’m in Prague.

I scan the faces as I move through the room, trying to pick him out. But I’ve only seen him in pieces—never all of him at once. A glimpse of eyes in a reflection. His lips, turning up in a smile when he’d talk about a new song. The stubble of his jaw when he’d tell me all the things he’d do to me if we ever truly met.

After moving to where he was before, with the bronze horse and man in front of me, I look down, and I suck in a breath.

It’s me. On the screen.

My head jerks up, and I search the opposite side of the room before referencing the screen again. He’s watching my profile now, catching the fountain in the center of the room in his shot. When I lift my gaze, it lands on a guy in a bomber jacket with a phone in his hand. A cap is pulled down, low on his face, and sunglasses cover his eyes, but my gut tells me I’m looking straight at Foster West.

He starts moving, and the shot drifts to another piece of artwork. It’s of a dog and a picnic, sunny sky and green, green grass, but the image shifts within seconds, showing me a new angle of myself. This time, he’s behind me. I close my eyes, my heart threatening to rip out of my chest.

I wander away from him, to the hallway and the painting of the little girl. After a minute, the frames he passes on screen look familiar. He’s following me. My limbs tingle as I climb the grand stairway to the second floor.

The slight crowd from downstairs thins the deeper into the building I go. When I glance down, I see the carved wooden banister stretching to the second level, a flash of his shoe, and then another shot of me by a sculpture of the female form.

I slowly make my way into a large, empty hall with nothing but baroque-style art. Foster’s entering the room as I pass the directory signs against the far wall. I check over my shoulder, making sure he’s watching and no one else is around before I turn down a narrow corridor. Then, I slip through the door halfway down, letting it swing shut behind me.