Mack was screwed. Up shit creek without a paddle. Dead man walking. How the hell had all this happened? Ok, Mack knew exactly how this happened. He'd crossed a line. What was it he had said to Potts, "The moment that thought entered your head, that's where you crossed the line!"
What had he been thinking? He hadn't been. Not at all, not even a little bit. Cheryl had been feeling isolated and abandoned and Mack had needed to show her she wasn't alone in all this. And that had been when he kissed her. After twenty years of denied, ignored, and buried longings, he had kissed Cheryl West, and the world had moved. The reason it had moved? Cheryl had kissed him back. A first tentatively, then with a hunger, a need that had almost matched his own. It had been about thirty seconds of bliss, before Cheryl had pulled away, and pushed him out the door. Mack had been so lost in his own fog of desire that it had taken him the drive home and one long cold shower for him to remember why it was he'd entered that motel room in the first place.
When he'd first knocked on that door, it had been about Cheryl, about helping Cheryl, but somehow it had gotten turned around into being about him. Instead of comforting her, and being a friend in her hour of need, he had made things worse. Was he insane? She had been alone, vulnerable, and little drunk. Obviously had been the perfect time to make a move on her. Not. And here Mack had thought Wolf was the morally bankrupt one. This is without even considering the emotional consequences of his actions. If Mack knew Cheryl, and he did, she'd be wallowing in guilt over what they'd almost done.
So what now? The cat was out of the bag, as they say. He needed to talk to Cheryl. To do what, he didn't exactly know. He could apologize, but there was the small problem of his not being 100% sorry. He was sorry about the grief he'd caused her and he was sorry about his shit timing, but he couldn't be sorry about he felt. Wouldn't be sorry about it. Yeah, it had disaster written all over it, for his career and for her family, but how could he be sorry about the one thing that made him feel alive, really alive for the first time in his life? How could he be sorry for an emotion that came as naturally and easily as breathing?