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Shawn's POV

It looks like I have interrupted a cold war between Charlie and Deb. Deb is wearing a pissed off expression her face. The salad sitting in front of her has numerous cuts and barely been eaten. Charlie does not appear to fair any better. 

"Deb, can you look at me?" I plead softly. The horseness as affected my voice to the point it sounds like a cat scratching a post. Actually, my whole body is not doing so well, and I feel dizzy. But this discussion must happen, she has to get how much I feel for Charlie. It just not fake, it is real. 

But, Deb is also a forgiving but not forget type of woman. It like her mind harbors things about people they will use it against them. Deb refuses to even acknowledge me, and then she tries to get up. Charlie shakes his head, slams his fist down on the table, and Deb is shaken.

"You will listen to what he has to say," Charlie commands to her, "It is the least you can do for the man who is carrying your grandchild."

"Fine! Whatever!" She exclaims then sits back down. Now, she gives me her full undivided attention. My hand reaches out to get hers and she does not pull it away.

"Deb please, I  want to start by apologizing," I state seriously. "I know you think I am playing Charlie like some fiddle. But, I am not. I do honestly love him."

"Shawn let me tell you this. I watch my son fall in love with you, and you knew all these years. I saw how you interacted with him. The smiles, the looks, and the hugs. I witness my son's heartbreak as you took out all these pretty girls in the class. I heard my son cry in his bedroom. 

Although while I was sad whenever Charlie decided to go to Los Angeles. I thought finally my son can find someone that could love him. Then you told him you were going to. Then I thought damn well that is probably going to ruin everything.

Shawn, I am not a damn fool so do not pretend to treat me like one. Honestly, why are you with Charlie now? After all these years? Is it because he has always been there? Your safety net?"

"Charlie is not a safety net for me. Look over these years I was a scared confused man Deb. All these feelings I felt for Charlie I thought you would go away. It did not matter how many girls I dated or slept with. It would not erase the fact that I was living a lie. A lie because I knew if I confessed to myself out loud that I was gay then it would have destroyed all these illusions I had about myself.

But this year I stop giving a damn. I realized that Charlie was the man I had been in love with all these years, and I needed to stop lying to myself. I feel free right now."

"Well, you better not hurt my Charlie because I swear to God there is a homemade shank with your name on it. And I am going to be like one of those women on snapped.  I don't stan trifling hoes, Shawn." 

"You don't stan trifling hoes mom?" Charlie questions in a joking tone.

"Did I stutter when I spoke?" Deb responds seriously. 

"No,"

"I present my case with truth, and the verdict as well. Don't test me," Deb warns.

"So are you saying that you, in fact, stan us?" I ask for clarification. The idea of being shanked by Deb is something I rather not endure. 

"I do ship and stan Sharlie," She replies and nods her head. "Damn this salad got cold quickly. And Shawn you need to eat up and eat more than that. Please for the future of the child."

"Sharlie?" Charlie states confused as he arches his left eyebrow.

"The ship name between Shawn and you," Deb answers. 

"Oh for a moment I thought you were talking about a different ship." 

"Do you see any other Shawns and Charlies at this table?"

"Nah mom see okay well nevermind," Charlie resigns and then goes back to eat his food. His geek side was begging to educate her on a different Sharlie ship. But decided it was better to let it go. 

"Eat your damn food, Shawn!" Deb yells at me. 

It startles me enough to slowly eat my food. She gets up and brings back two chocolate desserts. Entirely too much food but, I rather not piss her off again. I smile as I watch Deb and Charlie talk about various different wedding plans. 


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