Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name.

Paige smiled as the words from the theme song to the old sitcom, "Cheers," filled her head, the way they often did when she stepped up to the door of Hawkeye Hank's, the bar that had become her local hangout since she moved to Iowa City.

Paige knew a lot about old sitcoms from the 70s and 80s, having grown up watching a lot of them on DVD with her father, back in the day. Back when things were simpler between the two of them. Back when they were inseparable. Back when she was his TV buddy, or his little champ. Back when she made him proud. Back before she discovered that she was attracted to women instead of men, and everything changed.

Things were simpler on the TV show, too. Norm, Cliff, and all the other regulars spent all of their evenings in the bar, but no one was ever drunk and disorderly, and none of them was homeless or derelict or dysfunctional.

In many ways, the world of "Cheers" was foreign to Paige. She didn't get why her father was so captivated with the show. It wasn't his lifestyle. While he might have the occasional drink after dinner or at a get-together with friends, he had no respect for men who spent their nights in bars. Whatever other faults he may have had, Nick was a family man. He came straight home after work, timed Paige as she did her laps, sat down to family dinner, and spent some quality-time with his wife, Maureen, while Paige did her homework in her room.

Paige knew that her father wouldn't have tolerated people the likes of Norm and his friends – people with no responsibilities who frittered away all their evenings in a bar.

It was an ironic twist of fate that she had become one of them.

When Paige came out to her parents, Maureen wondered out loud what she had done to turn her daughter gay. Similarly, Paige was sure that Nick would be torturing himself with guilt over the part that he'd played in turning his daughter into a barfly, blaming it on all those episodes of Cheers that they watched.

But after leaving her home and friends behind and moving to Iowa, Paige understood the "Cheers" culture; why the gang would hang out at the bar every night. It wasn't about the beer, despite all the jokes that Norm made about it. It was about a community; about people who didn't judge you. People who might not be like you or agree with your politics, but who enjoyed hanging out with you nonetheless. It was about not disappearing, unknown and unforgotten, in a faraway, Midwestern town with not much going on. In a world where it's easy to fade into anonymous solitude, it's nice to have somewhere where everybody knows your name.

Paige let out a sigh and put on her usual smile as she pushed open the door walked inside. Hank's wasn't a nightly thing for her, the way Cheers was for the regulars on the TV show. She showed up twice, or, sometimes, three times a week. And she didn't have a reserved stool, like Norm and Cliff's; she had to survey the crowd around the bar, looking for a familiar face to sit next to. But she wasn't prepared for seeing someone quite as familiar as the raven-haired woman seated right in front of the cash register.

Emily. Paige's lips formed the syllables, but no sound passed through them. What the hell was she doing in Iowa City?

Paige's first instinct was to turn around and call it a night. But if her high school days in Rosewood had taught her anything, it was that there was no use trying to avoid uncomfortable situations. They had to be faced head-on, because they were bound to catch up with you, sooner or later. She collected herself and headed up to the bar.

Paige inhaled slowly as she stood behind Emily, but before she could speak, Emily swiveled around. The faint smile on Emily's face disappeared as soon as her brain registered who it was who was standing behind her. Their eyes were locked in on each other, but neither was able to come up with a single word to say. They just stared at each other in a kind of mutual hypnosis until, finally, the silence was broken.

"Paige."

It was Madisyn, the redheaded, tattooed bartender, who had broken the spell with her indomitably perky voice. She tilted her head, as she always did when greeting a customer, and asked, "The usual?"

Paige shook her head quickly, to clear her thoughts, and broke contact with Emily's eyes. Emily, in turn, aimed her eyes towards Madisyn, as if in responding on reflex to Paige's shift in focus.

"I'll… uh… I'll have what Em's having," Paige stuttered.

As soon as the name passed through her lips, she realized what a huge mistake she'd made.

She could have gone along with what Madisyn suggested and ordered her usual drink. Or she could have said, "I'll have what she's having." She had deliberately used her ex's first name, to let Madisyn know that she knew Emily; that she wasn't just sidling up to some new cutie at the bar.

If only she had actually said the name "Emily." If only she had said anything but "Em."

It wasn't just a name. There was a whole history attached to it. It had started as a joke. Paige, ending one of the late-night, marathon texting sessions that were so frequent when they were together in high school, typed, "Good night, Em…ily." She meant it in a playful way – splitting Emily's name in two for effect – but Emily texted back, "Did you just text 'ILY' to me, Paige McCullers?"

Paige hadn't thought of that at all, but, when she saw it, she liked it. She really wanted to be able to say those three little words to Emily, but she wasn't sure how Emily would react. So, she played it off as a joke, denying it a little too vigorously in the secret hope that her over-the-top denial would make Emily think that it had been intentional.

"Noooooooo," she texted back, "I was just having some fun with your name! Honest! :)"

"Uh huh. ;) Sure, Paige! You know you love me." Emily ended that message with three kiss emojis. It was a gigantic signal, but, still, Paige wasn't ready to risk her heart.

"I've got practice in five hours," she texted back. "I'll admit to anything – just let me get some sleep!"

"Whatever. Good night, Paige." Emily added a heart and several rainbows.

That night's texting turned out to be a milestone in their relationship. They were finally able to say "I love you" to each other. And, gradually, the term "Em" took on an added meaning. It became a way for Paige to convey "I love you" in situations when she couldn't say it in so many words.

When Nick McCullers was looking over her shoulder after a swim meet, Paige would have to substitute a hug and a, "Good night, Em" for a kiss and the words, "I love you."

When she and Emily were in the middle of a heated argument, and Emily was feeling wounded and insecure, an earnest, "Look, Em" from Paige reassured her that the love was still there.

After they had been apart for any length of time, a simple, whispered "Em," when they met again said so much more.

So, Paige was kicking herself for having chosen that name, knowing how Emily would have interpreted it. The only worse thing she could have done in that situation would have been to have gone straight in for the kiss.

Emily, for her part, had no qualms about Paige's use of the nickname. It emboldened her. She gave Paige's shoulder a squeeze and, before either of them knew what was happening, they were engaged in a long, strong hug.

It was no coincidence that Emily had turned up at Paige's favorite bar that night. And it wasn't the first time that she had been there, since she, herself, left Rosewood behind and moved to Iowa. She and Paige had drifted apart since high school. Even though they both ended up back in Rosewood after college, they barely saw each other. And, in the two years since Paige took the assistant coaching job at Iowa State, they had fallen out of touch. Still, Emily caught enough of Paige's Instagram stories to know that Paige would show up in Hank's sooner or later. It wasn't that she was stalking Paige, necessarily. But she was curious, of course, and, given their history, it was only natural that she would check out Paige's stories.

There was often a girl with Paige in those posts – or, more accurately, a series of girls. Emily noticed that Paige's taste seemed to have changed in the half-dozen years since high school. Instead of the tall, athletic, type, Paige seemed to favor shorter, softer women. Or maybe that was just what was available in Iowa. Anyway, Emily wouldn't have been there if she'd thought that Paige was serious about any of those other girls. On second thought, she probably would have been there anyway. After all, she was the one who had a claim on Paige. It was those other girls who were poaching on her territory. And Paige had just confirmed it, by calling her "Em." God, she had waited so long to hear that. She had no expectation that it would come so soon. It seemed almost too easy.

"What are you doing here?" Paige asked, abruptly creating space between them - and knocking Emily back down to earth.

Emily was confused. Paige's tone was brusque, not surprised or eager. And Emily understood. This was the kind of reaction that she had prepared herself for. She and Paige had history – and not all of it was good. She knew, before she made the decision to leave everything behind and run after Paige, that she was going to have to work to get her back. Working to gain back Paige's love would actually be the easy part. Working to gain back her trust would be harder.

But the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. For Emily, that step led to Hawkeye Hank's. Emily had spent every night there, over the past week and a half, getting the feel of the place, getting to know the regulars and Madisyn. She knew Paige; she knew that gaining the trust of her friends was a crucial part of gaining her trust.

"I…" Emily cleared her throat and managed a smile. "I live here," she said, using a drink from her wine glass as cover when she took a quick glance to see how Paige would take the news.

Madisyn set a glass of white wine in front of Paige and gave the bar a couple of swipes with her bar towel before making herself scarce. "Seems you two have some catching up to do," she said with a wink.

"What do you mean, you live here?" Paige's tone had softened somewhat. It was no longer challenging, but it was still far from welcoming. It was as if she suddenly realized that, if Emily really did live there, they would have to find some way to get along.

"I mean I live here!" Emily was trying desperately to stay upbeat, hoping that her mood would rub off on Paige. "You're looking at the new assistant coach for Coe College's women's swim team.

"Oh." Paige chuckled dryly. "I didn't know they were hiring."

"Well," Emily drew out the word, averting her eyes before she continued. "When I mentioned to Coach Fulton that I was looking to move to Iowa…" She dared a quick glance, again, gauging Paige's response to this new revelation– that she hadn't come to Iowa for Coe, but that she had come to Coe because it was in Iowa. "...she made a few phone calls." She let out a laugh that came out as a snort. "You know Coach… She's got connections everywhere."

Paige looked dumbfounded, as if she were trying to process all of this new information. Emily, biting her lip, playfully tapped her on the shoulder with her fist. "So, I guess that makes us rivals!"

Rivals. That was a role that Paige knew well, especially when it came to Emily.

"You wanted to move to Iowa?" Paige asked, incredulous.

"Well, yeah," Emily said coyly.

"You wanted. To move here? To Smack-Dab-In-The-Middle-Of-Nowhere, Iowa?" Paige seemed to be getting upset again. Emily touched her arm lightly.

"Paige." Her eyes were pleading with Paige not to make her say it out loud.

There was no need for Emily to say it. The answer was just as obvious as it had been when Emily asked Paige the same question about why she would choose to move to Iowa. Paige rattled off her well-rehearsed rationale – good opportunity, up and coming team, a new challenge – but Emily knew what the real reason was. And she had been gracious enough not to make Paige say it.

The pleading-eyes look from Emily was Paige's Kryptonite. So many times, Paige had crumbled under that look. There was that time at the hoedown, when Emily asked her to dance, after having been cool to her all evening - and all week, for that matter. Paige herself was wounded, but she couldn't bear to see Emily hurt. And there was that meeting in the hallway, after Paige had run into her in the coffee shop, on her way to a date. Emily wanted to talk. They needed to talk. But, seeing Emily like that, Paige surrendered, because talking didn't seem to matter anymore; not as much as taking care of Emily. And, finally, there at Hawkeye Hank's, after Paige had moved miles away from the one addiction she couldn't shake, there Emily was again, giving her that look again.

Paige could feel the familiar knotting in her stomach again. Her shoulders slumped in surrender, but before she could speak she was startled by a clap on her back.

"Paige effin' McCullers, where the hell have you been?"

The interruption was like a blast of ice water in Paige's face, jolting her out of her Emily-induced drunkenness back to sobriety. Andy, one of the regulars, was swaying back and forth on unsteady feet, drunk on something entirely different but just as potent.

Paige's smile was a little forced. "Andy," she said, softly but affably, "how have you been?"

Emily took a drink, and Andy, picking up on the movement, shifted his gaze to her. Paige remembered her manners. "Um, this is Emily. An old friend from back home."

Emily forced a tight-lipped smile in Andy's direction, knowing that the spell between her and Paige was truly broken.

So that was how it was. She was the old friend from back home. In that moment, she was stung by her own words from years ago: They weren't fighting. They were schoolmates. They once were teammates.

Emily cleared her throat and croaked out a greeting - from Paige's old friend to her new friend.

Andy, as drunk as he was, could sense that there was something more going on. "Oh," he slurred, pointing a meandering finger between the two women. "Was I interrupting something?"

Paige's head moved to the left, but she changed her mind before shaking it no. She smiled politely, exhaling through her nose as she did. As much as she wanted to avoid the conversation, she knew that they would have to have it sooner or later.

Andy took the cue. Bending at the waist towards Emily, as if tipping his whole body instead of a cap, he managed, "It was nice to meet you," and with a flourish in Paige's direction, he moved on.

Paige realized that Hank's probably wasn't the best place for them to have their talk. One of the disadvantages of a place where everybody knows your name.

"Where are you staying?"

Emily, still recovering from being introduced as an old friend, took a moment. "Huh?" She blinked twice to clear her thoughts as she rewound the tape to recall what Paige had asked her. "Oh, I've, uh… I've got a room at the school for a couple of weeks," she explained, "until I can get settled."

"Well, maybe we should continue this conversation at my apartment."

Emily nodded and began to gather her things. When she was thinking through the many ways that her first meeting with Paige could end, heading back to Paige's apartment had been the dream scenario. It was obvious, though, that this was not the storybook ending that she'd had in mind.

Moments later, they were seated on opposite sides of the round, wooden table in Paige's dining area. Emily's fingers were twiddling at the stem of her wine glass. Their drinks were the same as the ones in the bar, but the atmosphere could not have been more different. Paige chose the stark, rigid dining room table over the easy chairs and the couch in the living room, as if to erect some a literal barrier between the two of them.

Emily's leg was bouncing up and down beyond her control. It wasn't just nerves. It was cold in Paige's apartment. Paige always kept the temperature cold, whenever she had any say over it. But it was more than just the temperature. The whole atmosphere of the apartment was cold; daunting. And Paige, too. Paige was being cold. Emily had seen that side of Paige before, of course. They had had many ups and downs in their relationship. But Paige always came around. Emily smiled to herself, trying to take comfort in that thought.

Somehow, though, this time felt different.

Emily was on autopilot, rattling off her list of reasons for moving to Iowa – the list she had rattled off so many times before: A second chance, a shot a redemption, a fresh start in a town where she didn't have all that history and baggage to weigh her down. When she said those things to her mother and to Hanna, they immediately picked up on what she was really saying: Yes, all of her reasons applied to her career, but it was fairly obvious that each of her points was really about her and Paige.

If it had just been about the job, they would have tried to talk her out of the move, but knowing that she wanted her shot at love with Paige, they didn't argue. Emily had been buoyed by their optimism and encouragement.

Paige sat there like a marble statue - silent; stone-faced; cold - absorbing everything that Emily had to say. Emily shrugged her shoulders, indicating that she had said all that she had to say. The ball was in Paige's court. Emily looked down at the stem of her wine glass, as if not wanting to see the blow from Paige when it came.

"I…" Paige's forehead crinkled in consternation. "I don't know what you were expecting to hear, Emily."

Emily's heart sank.

Paige continued, "I mean, I just don't know what's changed between us, and why we wouldn't end up falling back into those same old patterns again." Paige gave Emily a look somewhere between condescension and compassion. She shrugged her shoulders. "I mean, good luck, I guess..."

I guess?

"… and if there's anything I can help with…"

Emily exhaled sharply, cutting Paige off in mid-thought. She wanted to cry; to let her tears spill into her glass and overflow the wine out all over the table. She wanted to fall into Paige's arms and wail like a frightened baby. She was willing to beg, to debase herself, to do whatever it took to get through to Paige, but that wouldn't have been fair. She wasn't going to let herself get into that pattern again. In the past, when they needed to work things out, Emily turned weepy and Paige turned maternal. They ended up getting back together without working things out. It was the easy way out. And it would have been so easy just to do that again. But that wasn't why Emily had moved to Iowa. She wasn't looking for a quick fix. Quick fixes tend not to last very long. Emily was looking for the real thing with Paige.

"No," she said, hastily getting up. "That's not why I got in touch with you. I'm not going to be a burden to you."

Ouch.

"Emily…"

"I should probably go," Emily said, already on her way to the door. Paige got up quickly and followed her. "I'll see you around."

"Emily… Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Emily snapped curtly, before Paige had a chance to finish her question, which was whether she was okay to drive.

Emily stopped abruptly just outside the door and turned towards Paige, deciding to say the words that she'd promised herself she wouldn't. "I know you think that I'm not serious about us, Paige. But I wouldn't just pack up and leave my whole life, all my friends, and my family behind in Rosewood if I was just messing you around."

Emily turned around, not giving Paige a chance to retort, and jogged to her car, letting out a frustrated grunt as she struggled to retrieve her keys from her purse. She just wanted to get the hell out of there.

The drive home seemed to take forever. Emily felt like pulling over to the side of road and crying her eyes out – or just staying on the road and driving deep into the night; far, far away from everything.

Paige took a couple of steps back into her apartment, surprised at how unsteady her legs were. She finally gave in and collapsed onto the floor, her back resting against the wall.

In her heart, she knew that she had done the right thing. But knowing that it was right didn't make it any easier.