Seeing an unlicensed therapist and cheating on his wife, all in one.
His deception continued for seven more months. When he thinks about it now, he can’t understand how he got away with it for so long. Cheating isn’t just a moral burden—it’s an intellectual one, too. The brainpower required to keep track of his lies, to make sure he didn’t slip—it was exhausting. On top of that, he had to worry about Zofia. She didn’t have any close friends at the office, but Bobby still constantly reminded her of the importance of being discreet. No one can know, he’d tell her. Ever since their affair became physical, they had moved their encounters to the Carlyle. Zofia always put him at ease. She smiled and told him that all she wanted was for him to be happy.
He broke up with her three times.
The first time, in January, she had cried and nodded, like she understood it to be inevitable. The following Wednesday, she asked him if he would be having his dinner—their dinner—alone. He suggested they eat together, as friends. At the office—as though that made it above board. He kissed her after two glasses of wine. Minutes after, they checked into the Carlyle.
The second time happened in March. There had been no tears. I can’t keep lying to my wife, he’d said. I’m very sorry. She had assured him she understood. She left a letter on his desk, unsigned, where she thanked him for being the world’s most wonderful man. Five pages filled with praise about his character, as though he weren’t a liar and cheater. You will always be the best part of my life, she’d written. It had broken his heart. It had also made him want her more. It was irresistible, being with someone who adored him to such an unyielding degree. I love you, the letter ended. He hadn’t reciprocated the feeling, but he had asked her if they could meet again. One last time, he’d said. She agreed. Of course she agreed.
The third—and final—time happened in early June last year, on a sunny afternoon. Bobby had just exited the Carlyle when he bumped into Caroline on the corner of 76th and Madison. Caroline, as it turned out, was headed toward Bemelmans Bar to meet a colleague. She hadn’t suspected a thing—all she’d seen was Bobby walking on the Upper East Side, after all—but the close call had made Bobby sick with fear. What if he’d left the hotel seconds later, running into Caroline at the lobby? Or what if he had showered before leaving the hotel, thus greeting Caroline with wet hair? What if he had been carrying his room key and Caroline noticed? Worst of all: what if Caroline had seen Zofia and put two and two together? That day, Bobby realized how easy it would be for him to get caught. Until then, he’d felt guilty—but not afraid. And so he broke up with Zofia for good. This time, it wasn’t even difficult. The fear of losing Gina had awakened him from whatever spell he’d been under.
But Zofia had been inconsolable. No, that’s not the right word. After all, she didn’t seek Bobby out, did not ask to be consoled. Instead, she seemed to accept her fate with the disposition of an understudy who, from the beginning, assumed her time on stage would be temporary. But while this knowledge informed her attitude—stoic, dignified—it did not seem to lessen her heartbreak.
She started making mistakes at work. Minor things: filing an expense report under an incorrect code, messing up dates in the calendar, cc’ing the wrong person on an email. Big things, too: she sent out a confidential report to the entire Sales department, forgot to account for dietary restrictions when arranging for catered lunches.
At first, he ignored them. It was a phase, he was sure of it. A temporary side effect of their break-up. Then, he tried talking to her about it, being careful to keep the conversation strictly professional. He didn’t mention anything about their time together. After all, that was in the past. Bobby spoke with her in the same way he would have if they’d never been involved. This is unlike you, he’d said, patiently. It was true: Zofia was the most efficient assistant he had ever had: sharp, organized, discreet. An expert at not just fulfilling but at anticipating his needs. But she could barely meet his eye without breaking into tears. It was an unsustainable situation, having an assistant who was suddenly professionally inept and emotionally unstable. A situation of his own making, no doubt—but unsustainable, nonetheless.
Bobby did the only thing he could think of: he promoted her to Administrative Coordinator under the Research and Development team. Better pay, better title. More responsibility and—more importantly—a different boss. Her second raise in a year—he had increased her salary at the end of the previous year, not because they were seeing each other, but because Alma Boots had a great year and a rising tide lifted all ships.
Bobby broke the news in front of the entire R&D team, praising Zofia’s work ethic and efficiency. He popped open a bottle of Prosecco and invited everyone to join him in raising a glass to their newest team member. It was his way of apologizing to her (he felt consumed by guilt) but also of putting some much-needed distance between them. It was time for Bobby to move on.
The meltdown was something Bobby would never have anticipated—not in a million years. It happened one month after her promotion. Bobby was in Boston for a meeting when he got the email from HR, informing him that Zofia
