No Longer Compromise For You

No Longer Compromise For You

No Longer Compromise For You

**No Longer Compromise For You**

No Longer Compromise For You Chapter 01

My fiancé is deaf in his right ear.

But he can hear my best friend tap a coffee cup from across the room.

Two soft taps on the table. Julian slides a hot Americano toward Sienna’s hand.

One glance at the window. He’s up, pulling the shade before she has to ask.

I say his name twice at conversational volume, sitting right next to him.

He turns, blinking. “Sorry, babe. Speak up. Couldn’t catch that.”

I swallowed my hurt and told myself he was just exhausted from planning the wedding.

Until the engagement shoot.

Julian pulled Sienna into the frame at the last second, one arm slung around her shoulders.

“Three-person shot. We’re all here anyway.”

The photographer hesitated. Handed me the proof with a look I couldn’t read.

In the photo, Julian’s right hand hung at his side.

Hooked around Sienna’s pinky finger with unguarded smile.

I hadn’t seen it in three years.

I set the bouquet down on the vanity.

I didn’t say anything.

If he’d never been able to hear me, I was done talking.

The photographer fanned thirty proofs across the table.

Julian’s eyes skipped past me and landed on Sienna Vaughn.

“Sienna. Which one?”

Sienna didn’t answer. Just tapped the corner of the three-person shot with a manicured fingertip.

Julian turned to the vendor. “This one. Blow it up. Welcome sign at the entrance.”

The vendor froze. Glanced at me.

Sienna took a graceful half-step back. “Maybe the maid of honor shouldn’t be on the welcome sign, Jules.”

Julian was already lifting her Burberry trench off the chair.

“Don’t be like that. You’ve been with us through everything.”

He turned to me for confirmation.

I smiled.

“Sure. Front and center.”

No bride was going to be standing next to that sign anyway.

He nodded, pleased. Reached out to brush a stray hair behind my ear.

I tilted my head, pretending to fuss with my hem. His hand hung in the air, then dropped.

He didn’t press it.

Sienna had just tapped the rim of her empty water glass. Twice. Barely a sound.

Julian walked to the bar. Came back with a room-temperature Fiji water, no ice.

The way she liked it.

Sienna looked up at him and mouthed thank you.

Julian caught every curve of her lips.

Front and center had left my mouth two feet from his good ear.

He hadn’t so much as turned his head.

I opened my phone. Pulled up the Plaza reservation.

Grand Ballroom. Rooms 3401 through 3418. Krug tasting suite.

All of it. Mine to cancel.

I started with the Acela tickets. Six of them, first class, Boston to Penn Station.

Cancel. Refund. Confirm.

Julian was adjusting the angle of Sienna’s straw when the last notification pinged.

I hit Confirm on the hotel block.

$18,400 back to my Amex.

He didn’t hear a thing.

Next, the welcome gifts.

Forty boxes I’d curated a month ago. Fortnum & Mason English breakfast paired with Harney & Sons Earl Grey.

Julian’s grandmother had been drinking that combination since 1998.

Sienna picked up a complimentary Walker’s shortbread round. Wrinkled her nose. Pushed the tin two inches away.

Julian clocked it.

He turned to the events manager. “Actually, let’s swap the whole order. Blue Bottle pour-over packets. Sienna recommended them a while back.”

I raised my voice. “The grandparents don’t drink coffee.”

Julian tapped his right ear. “Babe, when you shout it’s worse. Just static. Manager, place the order.”

The manager walked over with the change form.

The number at the bottom had jumped from $3,800 to $12,000.

Sienna stood by the samples, twirling a satin ribbon on one of the boxes. The ribbon caught around her wrist. She didn’t pull it off. Just frowned, waiting.

Julian went to her. Unwound it, loop by loop.

The morning we got our marriage license, I’d been breaking in a pair of Manolos.

He’d stood three yards ahead of me on the sidewalk, checking his watch, telling me to hurry up, Nora, you’re embarrassing yourself.

Because he couldn’t hear my heels dragging.

The manager was still holding out the pen.

I set it back down. Stepped back. Smiled at Julian.

“You picked it. You sign for it.”

He frowned. But Sienna was watching. He signed. Swiped his Chase Sapphire.

$12,400.

While he was debating packaging colors with her, I pulled up the beverage vendor’s portal.

Forty tables. Champagne tower. Two magnums of Dom per table.

Delete. Cancel. Confirm.

Julian came back over holding one of Sienna’s coffee samples, riding the high of a decision made together.

“Nora, what do you feel like for dinner?”

Three times louder than his voice had been for me two minutes ago.

Because Sienna was watching.

Because Julian needed to perform a doting fiancé for an audience.

“Whatever,” I said, at normal volume.

He didn’t hear.

He turned back to Sienna. “Sushi?”

She nodded. Traced a small circle in the air with her fingertip.

“The conveyor belt place in SoHo. Got it.”

I trailed behind them out of the venue, screen dark in my hand.

The confirmation email was already in my inbox.

Your cancellation has been processed. $47,200 will be refunded within 5–7 business days.