My ice cream was melting fast. “If you’re going to inherit everything soon, why don’t you go ahead and do the thing you want to do?”

“Because I’ll feel guilty inheriting something I didn’t work for. I think if we, you know, you and me, if we have a future, if I work a few more years at the company, then we will never have to worry about money ever again.”

“So, if I’m hearing you, you’re working at your family’s company to lessen the guilt you feel for inheriting your parents’ wealth?”

He paused, then said, “Basically. Yeah.”

“You used to talk about starting this or that or— You had dreams. What happened to them?”

“It’s not just money, though. It’s a lot of money.”

“Yes and no—”

“Uh . . .”

“Yes, it’s a lot of money. But it’s also just money. I am confident that you and I, if we remain together, with or without your inherited wealth, could make a living. The only thing in short supply is time.”

“But to live the lifestyle we want—”

“Don’t factor me into this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want that lifestyle, I really don’t. In fact, I hate it.”

“You don’t care about having hundreds of millions of dollars for our future?”

“It’s your inheritance, not ours, and certainly not mine. Also, the New York apartment is owned by your family’s trust, not even you.”

“But if you’re married to me, then it is ours.”

“That’s the thing—only if I’m married to you. I want to have things, own things, have equity in things that are not contingent on you. I don’t want to live in your house.”

“I’m offering you the chance to never have to worry about money again in your life.”

“And I would rather live in a half-a-million-dollar house that I own than a ten-million-dollar one in which I’m squatting.”

“So, let me get this straight: You don’t want to live in our, uh, extremely luxurious Manhattan apartment many people would die to live in?”