“I think you left something in the freezer.” He walks over and peers inside.
“Shit, I was looking for that,” he sighs. I watch him root around in the freezer, rearranging the hand under frozen bags of vegetables. When I see another body part poke out, I decide to leave the room. This is officially a shitshow, so I’m taking a bath. Eucalyptus salts can cure anything, right?
“Sophie,” Soren calls. I turn, and he crooks a finger at me. I shuffle back to the freezer. When I see a bag full of teeth, I sigh.
“Remember to use the master bathroom. We’re living in the same room now.”
“Right,” I whisper. Then I march out of the kitchen and past my mother and aunt.
“Sophie,” she calls.
“Need to freshen up,” I say quickly.
“Yeah, she does,” my brother laughs. He’s leaning over the upstairs banister. I shoot him the bird and hear my mom gasp. Next, I escape into Soren’s room and close the door behind me.
Okay, first things first, get cleaned up. I will not have a panic attack. I will manage what I can. Nothing I can do about corpses in the freezer with the fucking Christmas ham. But I can re-do my makeup, at least.
I freshen up in the bathroom, take a deep breath, and then emerge back into the house to the smell of sage, butter, meat, and bread. There’s a loud ruckus in the kitchen. As I move across the living room, I see half my family sitting at the big dining room table, eating meatballs and bread.
My mom and aunt move from the kitchen to the dining room table, bringing napkins and more silverware. Soren is sitting at the head of the table, but once he sees me, he excuses himself from the conversation and comes over to me.
“Everyone was wondering if you were coming back out,” Soren says with a smile. It took him thirty seconds to become more a part of my family than I am. I’m baffled and impressed, to be honest.
It’s such a great example of the complexity of psychopaths. Of him. He’s genuinely enjoying this, soaking it in with delight. He likes families. It’s throwing me for a loop. In theory, I knew this. I’ve heard him interact with his kids and admit depression from being apart from them. But I’d never seen the evidence of it with my own eyes. And I never realized just how much he thrives with company.
“What are you thinking?” He asks me quietly.
“You’re fascinating, Soren.” This strange duplicity he’s showing is the heart of my interest—the focus of what I want to pick apart. I need to know more about him—his childhood, his family, his medical history.
“I know that look,” he says. His eyes flick to my family, and he slides his arm around my waist. “But we need to convince your family we’re happily married. So you’ll need to take your psychologist hat off and have dinner with me.”
“Oh god,” I groan as he pulls me into the dining room. He takes a seat and pulls me down into his lap.
“We’ve run out of chairs,” he tells me with pride, as if this is an accomplishment. I give him a panicked look as my ass settles high on his thigh. Then I turn and see my entire family staring at me.
“How’d you two meet?” My brother asks. So it begins. I look at Soren in a panic.
“It’s okay to tell them,” he says.
“He came in for therapy,” I say tentatively. My aunt rushes in from the kitchen with a gasp.
“A client! Oh my.” She has a wide smile on her face, eating this up. My mom wanders in with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Therapy for what?” My dad asks in suspicion.
“I’m divorced,” Soren says. Everyone’s eyes widen and I feel like rolling mine. Wait until they hear about the murders.
“I was struggling with adjusting to the change,”
“Do you have kids?” My dad asks.
“Yes.”
“You’re a stepmom?” My aunt asks with wide eyes, sending a look to my mom. I’m absolutely baffled by the question. I’d never thought about what getting married might mean for our families. Soren nods.
“I have twins; they’re six. A boy and a girl. They’re with their mom right now, but they’ll be here for the summer.”
“What?” I yell. Everyone looks extremely interested in their food all of a sudden. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I whisper to him. My family all leans in closer to eavesdrop while nibbling absentmindedly on meatballs.
