Fireworks 1 and 2

Chapter Thirty

    "How does it feel to wake up in this house every day?" Mia asked, surveying the master bedroom which consisted of a lot of carved embellishments to the door frames to the entrance, master bathroom, and wardrobe closet.

    "I don't spend as much time here as I'd like to," Drake admitted, leaning across the bed and handing her a wide black tray loaded with a round, white plate and glass of orange juice. "But I do love it here."

    "You said that you visited the previous owners one day and vowed to yourself to buy the house from them?" she asked, furrowing her brows.

    He smiled. "You remember that?"

    "I wanted to make sure I wasn't hallucinating the conversation," she confessed, laughing.

    He sat next to her with his own tray, resting his back against the pillows propped up against the headboard. "Buying this house was one of the happiest times I can remember," he told her. "I remember thinking of it as a playground for me and the boys. A place for us to just relax. Away from all of the craziness, you know?" He shook his head, deep in thought. "It all seems so long ago now, which is crazy. It was less than five years ago."

    She forked yellow, fluffy scrambled eggs into her mouth and chewed on them in thought. When she was finished chewing, she asked, "Have you ever thought about taking time off?"

    "Think about it? Sure." He took a sip of his orange juice. "But there are too many things I want to do, too many people that rely on me to keep going. And I have a drive within myself. Right now, at this point in my career...I don't know if I know how to take time off. I feel like, I'd declare that I was taking a break and by the time it was done, still have a new album ready to go. I'm always thinking, you know? Always writing, always coming up with things."

    She nodded silently in understanding.

    "I also feel like, if I take time off, someone else will step up, you know?" He set his orange juice glass down. "I feel like by the time I tried coming back, fans would be like, 'Drake who?'"

    She rolled her eyes at him. "That's a bit extreme."

    He laughed and tilted his head. "Maybe, maybe."

    "Most artists take a year off between projects," she told him.

    He shrugged. "Some still do, but the game is changing. I can see it. A lot more artists are starting to step up. Starting to realize that if you take too long of a break, you become irrelevant."

    "Would becoming irrelevant be the worst thing in the world?" she asked him, pondering the question in her own mind.

    "The worst?" His mouth turned down at the corners. "Nah. But I'm nowhere near done. Taking a year off? Now? I have too many ideas, too many plans, too many goals. It's not going to happen."

    "That would be why you're steering clear of serious relationships," she said. In truth, she was just thinking aloud, and hadn't meant to speak the words. Her cheeks flamed once she realized she'd said the words out loud.

    He stared at her for a long moment before cutting a piece of his omelette. "Where did you hear that?"

    She took a deep breath while pushing her food around her plate. "Vanessa mentioned that it's what you say in interviews," she said, closing her eyes and feeling like a major snitch.

    He nodded quietly. "She's been doing a lot of talking, has she?" He chewed on his omelette and watched her.

    She looked back at him. "Some."