Fractured [SHAWN MENDES]

~45~

Taryn dipped her bread into the plastic ramekin of pesto and took a bite. When she was done chewing, she spoke. "So Gretchen's point is that you aren't truly cancelled, except in your head?"

After the interview, Shawn texted her that it was done. On her way back to the hotel, she'd stopped to pick up some Italian food which they were now eating in the hotel room.

"Her theory is that I put myself into self-exile, possibly out of guilt," Shawn explained.

"Then you can un-exile yourself, right? It sounds like she's saying that you can have your career back if you want it."

He pushed his partially eaten container of food away. It was delicious, but he had no appetite. "It wouldn't be the same. I'd never be who I used to be. That Shawn Mendes is dead and buried."

"God, you're dramatic sometimes," she said with an eye roll. "Dead and buried? Really? Your career was injured. It needs some rehab, but eventually it can be strong again."

"You don't know that! There's no way of predicting what kind of success I could have! I might...I might fail."

She saw the pain in his face as he said the last three words and her empathy kicked in. He was terrified of trying again and failing, which was a very human way to feel. "I support you no matter what you decide to do, and I know that your family feels the same way. This is a decision only you can make. I don't want to push you in that direction if you're not ready."

"I appreciate that. I'm meeting with Andrew tomorrow, so I'll get his perspective. I need to talk to Paul about this in my next session. He's said things in the past that I'm starting to think were hints that some of this was my issue, not the public's. He's even outright mentioned the possibility of a comeback, which I always disputed," Shawn told her.

"I'm looking forward to meeting Andrew, though I understand if you want to do this alone now that you've got some pretty big things to talk about." She twirled her spaghetti on her fork before putting the large bite in her mouth.

"I was already planning on talking to him about making music again, but not on the scale Gretchen suggested. I was thinking small...like writing songs and selling them to other people, maybe under a pseudonym. I want you here because your opinion is important to me, and besides, I won't have to run through the whole conversation with you afterwards if you're a part of it."

"Then it's settled. In the meantime, we've got a night to ourselves in New York. You skipped lunch because you were nervous about the interview. How about you eat that plate of scallops and linguine before I do, and then maybe we can take a walk. I've always wanted to cross the Brooklyn Bridge on foot." She nudged his food towards him.

Somehow, even with everything spinning in his head, his thoughts turned to sex. "If I eat my dinner, do I get dessert?"

"We can pick something up on our walk. Maybe gelato to stick with the Italian theme?"

"That is not what I was hoping to eat," he said as he took a bite of his dinner.

Her heart started beating rapidly. "New plan. We finish dinner, take a walk, come home and get in that lovely bathtub, and then we both have dessert."

"Oh, are you hungry for some, too?"

"I'm famished."

******

"Oh my god...Shaaawwwwnnn!" Taryn moaned as he took another helping of dessert the next morning. She had a firm grip on his hair while his face was planted between her thighs.

When her legs stopped shaking, he stood up from the kneeling position he'd been in and smiled at the gorgeous woman sprawled across the chair in their suite's living room. A few minutes earlier he'd been the one sitting and she'd been down on her knees. Over the last twenty-four hours, they'd had sex in one form or the other in almost every possible place in their luxury accommodations.