The 90-Day Experiment (The Expiry Date Diaries #1)

Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Emerson

M ackenzie tapped her wine glass, and I immediately tensed. I knew that look—that gleam in her eyes that always meant she was about to turn our lives upside down.

The usual dinner chaos at our massive table died down as everyone turned to look at her. God, we were such a circus—ten grown women still living in this monster of a house, each of us with our own floor that our moms had converted into apartments.

On paper, it sounded insane. In reality? It worked, mostly. Except when Mackenzie got that particular look in her eyes.

She sat there at the head of the table, drumming her perfectly manicured nails against the wood, every inch the successful writer she'd become. Even her hair looked like it was plotting something.

My eyes swept around the table, taking in my sisters and cousins.

There was Avery with her permanent tan and that enviable "just got back from Bali" glow. Quinn, practically vibrating with whatever new marketing scheme she'd cooked up. Shelby, radiating that calm energy that made her such a great physical therapist. Taylor, probably analyzing all our body language—occupational hazard of being an intimacy therapist, I supposed.

Kennedy was practically bouncing in her seat, all that creative energy barely contained in her tiny frame. At 28, my baby sister was already making waves in the theater industry, and then there was Harlow, looking like she'd just stepped out of a Pinterest board, probably mentally rearranging the table settings even now.

At the far end sat our moms—the architects of this whole beautiful mess.

Mom caught my eye and gave me that look that said she knew exactly what I was thinking.

She'd always been our anchor, the voice of reason when things got too wild. Next to her, Aunt Vic was practically bouncing in her seat like Kennedy, proving that some things definitely ran in the family.

It still amazed me sometimes how our moms had planned this—getting pregnant together four times so we'd each have a built-in best friend. Sure, it was unconventional, but then again, when had our family ever done anything the normal way?

The air stilled with anticipation as Mackenzie cleared her throat.

My stomach did a nervous flip. Whatever she was about to propose, I had a feeling our quiet family dinner was about to get a hell of a lot more interesting.

“Alright, everyone,” she began, commanding our attention. “I’ve got big news.”

I looked around at my family, each of us so different, but bonded in a way that was unbreakable.

Mackenzie’s news was sure to shake things up, and I braced myself. Last time she had that look, we ended up on a crazy road trip with a broken-down rental, a sketchy motel, and way too much tequila.

“Spill it, Mac,” Kennedy urged, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “The suspense is killing us.”

Mackenzie’s smile grew even wider, if that was possible. “Well, because of my article, I’ve been offered…” she paused for dramatic effect as if she were revealing the plot twist in a soap opera, “…a book deal.”

An excited murmur went around the table as we waited to hear more.

"But there's a tiny catch," she continued, in the same tone people use right before saying, 'Your car needs a new everything.' "The publisher wants real-life stories proving the 90-Day Relationship Challenge is garbage. And since we're all still single as Pringles?—"

Quinn set her wine down with a thunk, her expression filled with both amusement and disbelief.

“Wait, are you serious?” she asked, eyebrows shooting up. “You want us to be guinea pigs in this anti-love experiment?”

Mackenzie shrugged, her grin not fading one bit.

“Think of it as an adventure,” she said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “It’ll make for great material for the book. We can show the world what modern relationships are really like.”

“Guess I’m out,” Avery chimed in. “I’m assuming my five-year relationship with Mark will put a damper on the whole thing.”

A few nervous sounds and hums echoed around the table.

Mark was a point of contention for most of us. We always thought Avery could do a hell of a lot better than the jack-wagon who hadn’t appreciated her a day in her life and who was usually running around whining about her being gone all the time traveling.

Like suck it up, dude; it’s her job, for Christ’s sake.

My sisters and cousins began to discuss the challenge, but I stayed silent. My brain was going a million miles an hour, trying to process the whole crazy idea.

Ninety days of playing lab rat in the name of love? Part of me was thinking it might be fun, but then reality decided to bitch-slap me. It’s not like I had a line of eligible bachelors beating down my door. Except...

Oh sweet mother of science. Just the thought of him sent my lady garden into full bloom.

A no-strings-attached romp with that walking GQ cover? Um, yes please; where’s the dotted line, and how fast can I sign? The way he sometimes looked at me, like I was the last Twinkie in the apocalypse—well, a girl could dream, right?

Of course, my brain decided to be a party pooper.

Mixing business with pleasure was about as smart as mixing tequila with decisions. A one-way ticket to Disaster Town, population: me.

I quietly collected the empty dishes and retreated, taking the elevator downstairs to the main kitchen. The warm water was soothing on my hands as I started washing the plates, but my mind continued to spin.

The scientist in me was itching to test this whole relationship theory thing out. You know, for research. Totally not because I wanted an excuse to jump Liam’s bones or anything.

“Get a grip, Emerson,” I muttered, scrubbing a plate so hard I thought it might snap in half. “He’s your colleague, not an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

But man, what a buffet he’d be. I bet he had abs you could grate cheese on. And those hands... I wondered what they’d feel like running down my?—

A plate clattering into the sink, slipping from my soapy fingers, snapped me back to reality.

Great. Now I was almost breaking dishes because I couldn’t keep my hormones in check. Real mature, Em.

The kitchen door swung open, and Kennedy rolled in, grabbing a dish towel to help. “You kinda shot out of there in a hurry,” she said, her voice gentle but probing.

I sighed. “I don’t know, Ken. This whole challenge thing... it’s like, intriguing, but also terrifying? I mean, I want to help Mackenzie get her book deal and all, but who the hell am I supposed to ask? I never leave the lab.”

Kennedy shrugged. “There’s gotta be someone. What about at work? Not necessarily at the lab, but at the university? Maybe that hot UPS guy who always ‘forgets’ to get your signature and has to come back?”

But of course, my mind could shoot nowhere but to Liam again—his chiseled jawline, those eyes that made me feel like I was naked even when I was wearing a parka, and don’t even get me started on how his shirts clung to him in all the right places.

Suddenly, I was hotter than a menopausal woman in a sauna.

“Maybe,” I mumbled, trying to sound as casual as someone who definitely wasn’t imagining their coworker naked.

Kennedy’s eyes narrowed as she dried a plate, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “I know that look. Spill.”

I rolled my eyes, though a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “It’s just... there is this guy at work. Liam. But it’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?” Kennedy pressed, her curiosity fully piqued.

“He’s... well, we work together. And I’m kind of his boss,” I admitted, my voice dropping to a whisper as if saying it aloud made it more real. “Also, he’s younger. And he’s gorgeous. Like, distractingly, ridiculously gorgeous.”

Kennedy's eyes lit up like Christmas came early. "Wait, you're telling me you've got a hot young assistant? How much younger are we talking?"

"Seven years," I mumbled into my wine glass. "He's twenty-seven."

Kennedy’s eyes widened in delight. “Holy shit, this is better than Netflix. So, what’s the problem? It’s not like you’ve got rules against office hookups… you’re always telling me stories about the relationship drama between your coworkers.”

“I know, but?—”

“I think you should ask him. Worst case, he says no and you find someone else. Best case, you get to spend 90 days doing a little hands-on research with Mr. Hot Assistant.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Yeah, and risk making things awkward at work if it all goes south? No thanks.”

Kennedy shrugged. “Look, life’s too short to play it safe. Besides, you never know—he might be just as into you as you are into him.”

The thought made heat rise to my cheeks.

As we made our way back to the roof, the high-octane strategizing had apparently kept right on chugging. Fueled by laughter, wine, and the kind of playful insults only family could get away with, the air was filled with banter and more-than-occasional curse words, a signature of our gatherings.

My sisters and cousins were in their element, reveling in the kind of comfortable familiarity that comes from shared history and too many family dinners to count.

As Kennedy and I made our way back to the table, Mackenzie’s eyes lit up with mischievous glee.

She zeroed in on me like a hawk spotting its prey.

“What about you, Em? You’ve been awfully quiet. We need your scientific perspective to balance out all this romantic nonsense!”

Every pair of eyes turned to me, expectant and eager, like I was the main act at a circus and they were waiting for the last big trick. The weight of their collective gaze pressed down on me like a ton of bricks as I sat.

“I don’t know, guys. It’s a lot of pressure. And honestly, I’m not sure I can commit to something like this right now, with the lab work and everything…” I trailed off, thinking about the late nights I'd have to pull to keep up with Jasper's project demands.

Mackenzie rolled her eyes dramatically, leaning back in her chair. “Come on, Em! We’re just talking about a bit of harmless fun. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

Quinn chimed in, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, Ms. Science. Surely you can take a break from all that data crunching to have a little fun?”

I crossed my arms defensively. “It’s not just data crunching. It’s important research. And besides, I don’t see why my opinion is so crucial to this plan.”

“Because you’re smart,” Mackenzie said, giving me a look that was equal parts exasperation and affection. “We need your brain to make sure we don’t end up getting arrested or something.”

“And your charm,” Kennedy added. “Let’s not forget that dazzling personality of yours.”

I snorted, unable to hold back a laugh as I lifted my glass to my lips. “Right, because I’m such a charmer. Face it, you just want to drag me into your shenanigans so you don’t have to feel guilty about having fun without me.”

Mackenzie leaned forward, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “Exactly. Plus, you know, the giant royalty advance the publisher has offered me. Which you will all get a share of for participating, of course,” she grinned. “So come on, Em. Live a little. What’s the worst that could happen?”

I glanced around at their greedy little faces.

Unfortunately, their excitement was as contagious as the flu in a kindergarten classroom. Maybe it was the Merlot talking, or maybe it was the persuasive power of our family bond, but my defenses were crumbling.

Plus, a small part of me wondered if this might be a welcome distraction from the intense focus I'd been putting in at work lately.

“Fine,” I relented with a small, reluctant smile, raising my hands in mock surrender. “I’m in. But I wouldn’t expect much. I’m a scientist, not a miracle worker.”

The table erupted into cheers, glasses clinking in a symphony of toasts to new adventures and our quirky family ties.

Kennedy gave me a knowing look, as if to say, “Welcome to the madness, sis.”

Mackenzie grinned from ear to ear. “This is going to be epic. And remember, Em, no backing out now. You’re officially part of this plan.”

I sighed, shaking my head but unable to suppress a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Just remember, you asked for it. Don’t come crying to me when it all goes sideways.”

“Okay, okay,” Mackenzie said, giving me a look as she pulled out her phone. "Before we get too carried away, let's set some ground rules for this thing."

She opened her Notes app, all business now. "First rule: this is strictly ninety days. No exceptions, no extensions. We're not trying to actually fall in love here—we're proving a point about rushed relationships."

"And what happens if someone catches feelings?" Taylor asked, her therapist instincts kicking in.

"That's why we need to make this a binding pact," Mackenzie replied. "We all agree—day ninety-one, it's over. Clean break. No matter what."

Quinn leaned forward. "What about the actual dating part? Are there guidelines for that?"

"Yes," Mackenzie's fingers flew across her phone screen. "You have to go on real dates. And you have to actually try. No sabotaging it just to prove a point."

"Define 'real dates,'" Kennedy pressed.

"Proper planning, actual activities, meaningful conversation," Mackenzie listed off. "No Netflix and chill, no 'hanging out.' Real effort."

"What about physical stuff?" Harlow asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Your call," Mackenzie shrugged. "But remember—this is about testing real relationship potential. So maybe don't jump straight into bed?"

The conversation devolved into playful jabs and increasingly wild hypotheticals about worst-case dating scenarios, fueled by the remaining bottles of wine.

I sat back, letting their voices wash over me, my mind already racing ahead to possibilities I probably shouldn't be entertaining.

Mom and Aunt Vic had disappeared after extracting promises from all of us to "be smart" about this whole thing, whatever that meant.

One by one, my sisters and cousins drifted off to their respective floors, until only the remnants of our feast remained—empty wine bottles, scattered dishes, and the lingering echo of laughter.

I found myself alone on the rooftop deck, staring at the lake like it held the secrets to the universe. The light breeze did little to cool the heat of my thoughts, which were a jumbled mess of excitement, fear, and something that felt suspiciously like longing.

I couldn’t shake off thoughts of Liam. His warm, crooked smile that made my heart do somersaults, his sharp wit and scientific mind, and that tension between us I’d been trying to ignore like it was a persistent telemarketer. But damn if it wasn’t getting harder by the day.

Taking a deep breath, I let the realization wash over me like a wave crashing on the shore.

Participating in this challenge wasn’t just about satisfying my scientific curiosity. It was a chance to stop being such a chickenshit and stop letting my brain cockblock me at every turn.

And maybe, just maybe, it was time to see if all that sizzling chemistry with Liam could turn into a full-blown inferno.

My pulse quickened at the thought. If he was on board, I was about to cannonball into the deep end of the dating pool, and I was scared shitless. But standing there with the moon making the lake twinkle, I felt a tiny spark of “fuck it, let’s do this” excitement. This could be the adventure of a lifetime.

And if it meant getting closer to Liam, exploring that tantalizing chemistry between us, then maybe it was worth the risk.

It was time to take a leap of faith, to embrace the chaos and see where it led.

The next morning, I entered the lab with nerves buzzing like tiny electric shocks dancing under every inch of skin. The words of my proposal tumbled through my head like a gymnast on a sugar high, each speech sounding more ridiculous than the last.

I busied myself with organizing my desk, even though it looked like Liam had already done it for me. Again. But I was in desperate need of a distraction from the impending conversation.

Right on cue, Liam walked in, his presence filling the room like a comforting blanket. He had an effortless way of commanding attention without even trying. With his tousled hair and that damn charming smile, he made my heart do somersaults every time he looked at me.

Today was no different.

He approached me with a cautious expression, a flicker of concern dancing in his eyes. “Everything alright, Doc? You seem a little on edge.”

God, I was transparent. I took a steadying breath, forcing myself to meet his gaze.

Now or never, Em.

“Actually, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” I aimed for a casual tone, but the slight tremor in my voice betrayed my nerves. Heat rose in my cheeks.

Liam tilted his head, curiosity piqued. “What’s up?”

“Do you remember my cousin’s article about the 90-Day Relationship Challenge we were talking about the other day?” I began, my heart hammering so loudly I was sure he had to hear it.

He nodded, looking confused and intrigued. “Of course.”

“Well,” I continued, my palms growing clammy, “I was wondering if you’d be willing to help me with something a bit... unconventional.”

Liam’s eyebrows shot up, his expression surprised. To say the least. The air between us crackled like a live wire as I braced myself for his response.

“Unconventional?” He leaned back against his desk, folding his arms across his chest. “I have to admit, you’ve got my attention.”

I swallowed hard through the intensity of his gaze.

“My cousin Mackenzie got this book deal, and well… my family needs me to participate in the 90-Day Relationship Challenge, and I was thinking maybe you’d be willing to partner with me.” The words tumbled out as if they had a mind of their own, not in the calm, collected way I’d planned.

He blinked. Then he blinked again. Finally, his surprise morphed into something warmer, and it heated me straight to my core.

“You want me to be your boyfriend for ninety days?”

“Um, yes,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “For science.”

“For science,” he repeated, a slow grin spreading across his face.

He paused, and my heart stopped. Christ, what had I just done? There was no way our professional relationship could ever recover.

“Well…” he started slowly, his voice teasing, “…I mean, who am I to stand in the way of scientific progress?”

I let out a weird little laugh, the sound escaping me in a surge of relief and nervous energy. “So, you’ll do it?”

He took a step closer, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made my knees weak. “On one condition.”