A French Wedding

Chapter One

Max

He is probably driving too fast, considering he isn't on an autoroute, but he likes these back roads better. And he likes driving too fast. He likes the thrum of the engine coming up through the soles of his feet, through his legs, into his crotch. He likes gripping the steering wheel with just one hand, the wind biting the elbow of his other arm hanging out the window. This car, slick and red as lipstick, purrs.
Max is going to be late. The others will all be there soon, just as he had asked them to be, waiting for him. He can see them on the lawn, staring back at his country house, Juliette fetching them long, cool glasses of Pimm's with fresh garden mint stuffed in. They will be travel weary but impressed. Eddie and whoever he'd said his new girlfriend was--the American one, Betty? Nina and Lars, bless them. Their kid, though she probably wasn't a kid anymore. Hot Rosie and her awful husband, Hugo . . .

Helen.

Max had missed her earlier call but listened to the message. The deep, soft whir of Helen's voice, edged by the effects of cigarettes and New York, saying she was looking forward to it, that frankly she needed a break. Telling him she'd be there by nightfall and that later she'd be picking up her sister, the half sister technically, Soleil. Max found it hard to pay attention to the details. Something shifted inside him at the sound of her voice. Something uncoiled.

Max rubs his eyes. He has been touring and drinking too much. He's been operating on about five hours of sleep a night and it is no longer enough. The cocaine takes the edge off and keeps him awake, but he'll lay off it after today; he has promised himself.

Max turns the music up even louder till he feels the blood pounding in his ears and blinks away tiredness. His eyes, those strange khaki-colored eyes, the color of dark bay leaves, of swamp water, are his father's eyes. Not that he ever tells anyone that.

Helen is the only one of Max's friends who knows

HANNAH TUNNICLIFFE is the author of two previous novels, The Color of Tea and Season of Salt and Honey. She is founder and co-author of the blog Fork and Fiction, which, unsurprisingly, explores her twin loves--books and food. She currently lives in New Zealand with her husband and three daughters.

"Tunnicliffe sets the proverbial table with plenty of plot twists and surprising character sketches"
--New York Times Book Review

"The pages practically turn themselves in Tunnicliffe's sparkling novel, brimming with festering secrets, abandoned dreams, love triangles, and lots of wine!"
--Emily Liebert, author of You Knew Me When and When We Fall

"A French Wedding is a delectable page turner with huge heart from an author who has proven herself to be an expert at creating endearing characters and compelling stories. Hannah Tunnicliffe writes with warmth and emotional depth about life in all its stages and love in all its forms. A bonus: she writes about food with true passion too, which makes this novel even easier to devour!"
--Marissa Stapley, Globe and Mail bestselling author of Mating for Life

"One of my favorite authors, Hannah Tunnicliffe transports you to Paris and the French countryside, where food, friends, romance, old longings, and new beginnings await an unforgettable cast of characters."
--Mia March, author of The Meryl Streep Movie Club

"Tunnicliffe delivers a solid story with a cinematic sweep that brings together an ensemble of complex, fully developed characters and a lovingly rendered setting, sure to please fans of romantic women's fiction."
--Booklist