Since last we saw Conrad and Ada, several important plot points in our film have happened. [Because this is a film—does anyone remember that at this point?]

Following their time together at Conrad's Toronto townhouse, both he and Ada, as a result of their own independent soul-searching, have separately filed for full custody of their clinic-made child, in whom the extended adoptive family has no interest (other than the considerable inheritance due the child from the estate of the deceased adoptive mother—which those same people are trying to get back through any legal means possible).

In the interim, Ada runs into a specific (and seemingly rare) ailment among her flock of heritage sheep. The local vet runs out of solutions, and cannot assist her. It is her mum who eventually cracks it, having been reading through one of Conrad's earlier books about agriculture and its place in folklore, and recalling having found within it a centuries-old cure, which, to Ada's shock, soon puts her flock on the mend. Yet another distressing tick in the "pro" column for Conrad Bierkut.

Shortly thereafter, the court makes its final ruling on the current custody and eventual adoption of Conrad and Ada's biological child. The infant's name has been kept out of the papers (shockingly), but it is Leta.

The court, having considered the options, and being influenced heavily by the number of statements on record Ada has made about the child not being hers (made when she was trying to outline her original decision to become an egg donor), and an old-fashioned prejudice against what they saw as a woman not (originally) wanting her child–rather than a man not originally wanting his child–has ruled in full favor of Conrad's petition. (Conrad is also seen to be financially and emotionally more stable than Ada, no matter that this may not be, in practice, true.) He is awarded sole physical custody and a clear path toward future adoption.

Ada is heartbroken at the loss, and feeling more than a little aggrieved with Conrad for battling her for custody.

To viewers, it looks for all intents and purposes like the Babymakers' story together is over.

And then, Ada's father dies (not entirely unexpectedly, he has been vaguely ailing throughout the film).

It is the day of his funeral, which was held early in the day, and the mourners have gathered at the farmhouse for a meal. Ada, exhausted, and, of course, sad, decides to step away for a short walk, to clear her head and regain her composure before returning to the wake.

*Mind you, this is not a Terribly Depressing wake. (This is a Romantic Comedy!) People are sad and no one's dancing, but her father lived a good life, was loved and valued by his family, and they're all handling it well within reasonable and functional mental health parameters.

Ada is passing nearby the apiary when she catches a glimpse of someone out walking among the hives. She thinks she hears them speaking, but no one else is about.

Startled, she recognizes it as Conrad. Though they had been in occasional contact through the court's decision process, during which she and Conrad were each afforded visitation with baby Leta, any communication between them broke down seemingly irrevocably with the announcement of Conrad being awarded full custody.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, her tone not one of anger (though she feels she would have a right to be so), but of curious surprise.

Conrad seems surprised, himself, though not startled. Clearly, he expected to have been found out at some point.

"I was just…telling the bees."

"Telling. The bees?" Ada looked at Conrad Bierkut. He wasn't even dressed like a man attending a wake. In fact, he looked uncharacteristically scruffy, like he hadn't been getting good rest, or quite enough sunshine. He looked more than a little like the physical embodiment of his office room, if a man could show up looking cluttered and dusty, and somewhat forgotten. He didn't look like the victor in a court battle. He didn't look like the slickly perfect top-requested sperm donor in the city—in the province.

But he did look comfortable, and, she was surprised to note, familiar. She closed her mouth before she instinctively told him she was glad to see him.

"Yeah, it's uh—you gotta tell the bees. When something like this happens. It's all over European agrarian folklore. In the Pyrenees—"

She stared. What was he on about?

"Whittier," he seemed to feel he'd hit on something, sealing the poet's name with a finger snap. "in Home Ballads;" he said, as though she ought to know it.

And then he was quoting poetry, his hand to his head as though it helped in the recitation; "'Went, drearily singing, the chore-girl small,/Draping each hive with a shred of black./Trembling, I listened; the summer sun/Had the chill of snow;/For I knew she was telling the bees of one/Gone on the journey we all must go!'"

"You are telling the bees that my father has died?" Ada asked, dryly.

He seemed to think his mission supremely reasonable. "If you don't, it's said they'll die themselves, or stop producing—and I thought maybe you all might have forgotten to tell them, and just to be safe, because I really enjoyed that jar of honey Gina gave me, and it would be a pity if—" he was starting to fall a bit over his own words.

Ada stood still, not certain if she wanted him to go or stay; to stop speaking, or continue.

"Look, I'm sorry," Conrad said. "I didn't come here to upset you further. It's just, I heard about your dad and—and I, my mother, well, my mother went on ahead of us awhile ago. You know that. And it's…well, I miss her, every day. Every damn day. And you know, I was thinking it's foolish, really, to, to keep someone that loves you at a distance."

He wasn't, Ada thought to herself, no, he absolutely wasn't going to try and—not here, not now—not after everything–

"To let someone," he rushed on, "like the courts, let's say, decide who's family and who's not, and who we should love the most and who should love us. Leta's already lost time she can never get back with your dad, her granddad. And if you love Leta, then, why would I agree to keep her from you? And we were thinking, you know, she and I, that it would be great to have you around for birthdays and first days of school and Christmas and graduations, and we were thinking we should just ask if you would consider, to, like, co-parent, or whatever they're calling it, with me, and come over a few times a week for dinner with us…"

She felt her heart lurch when he finally got to saying it. But instead of waiting for her answer, he went on. His delivery got a little less rushed, as he continued.

"But then we said, 'well, that seems a little inefficient, after all. If Ada's gonna to come to dinner and be at all these occasions, well, why not have her around all the time? Love calls to love after all, doesn't it? And the miles alone that you'd put on your car, well, we felt like you'd prefer not to do quite so much driving. Carbon footprint, whatnot. Then, why not invite Ada to be part of us forever?'"

She did not register that her mouth had fallen open. The offer of being added to Leta's life was more than, at this point, she would have ever expected. 'Love calls to love,' he had said. And her heart felt that, like an unexpected rock formation deep in her core that he had only just now managed to name, to classify.

"That's, what the two of you said?" she asked, slowly.

Conrad went on, as if to undercut his statement. "It was mostly my idea to ask you to marry me. Because I love you." He did not pause for any response from her. "Because it kind of hurts a little not to be able to hold the thing you love, and cherish it, and depend on it being there tomorrow, and the next day."

Ada nodded, and breathed in deeply through her nose to try and hold off tears from falling. "And because time goes too fast?"

Conrad shook his head to agree with her. "I should have spoken up weeks ago."

She disagreed. "I wouldn't have been able to give you the answer you wanted."

"No?" his eyebrows twitched together, concern blooming there. "…And now?" It was his turn for a deep breath, as he waited for her answer.

"You shall have to speak to the bees again," she shrugged. "If there's to be a wedding."

He put his hand out, in hopes of taking hers in it. The corner of his mouth cocked in a half-smile. "Maybe save that for tomorrow, don't you think? Too much news at once, might be more than they can handle."

She extended her hand toward his, realizing how seldom, if ever, they had in any way touched. She was not surprised, but she did notice as he accepted it from her, the lack of callus on his palm. Not like Garrett's, or Roger's, or even her father's. It was something new, something to learn. She looked up to his face. That, she realized, would not be something she would need to learn or memorize. She was reminded quite strongly that it was this face she'd been seeing for some time now, during her days, and also during her nights. It was this face that had—she couldn't have said when—started crashing all her best dreams. It was this face she realized she had started longing to run across unexpectedly. Those sideburns she had embarrassed herself by realizing how much she wanted to brush softly with her thumbs. "I'm in love with you," she said, like a girl waking up and sleepily announcing it was morning.

"Ada, Ada," he said, "Never change," just before his mouth met hers.

Slowly cut away and flash to back porch of the farmhouse, where Roger is playing with what we realize is baby Leta on his knee, as Conrad has left her in Ada's brother's care (without Ada seeing) as he sought out the bees.

"I half hope he gets stung to the point of needing medical attention," Roger tells the baby, whom he is obviously quite charmed by, "What do you say to that? No? You'd prefer not? Yeah. Guess I'll have to learn to be okay with him. So long as you're part of the bargain, yeah?"

Pull away shot from them on the back porch as Gina comes out to join them there, until we can also see Ada and Conrad over the distance, still kissing at the apiary, as well as the rest of the farm lay-out.

Credits roll. To the right of the names and disclaimers, a reel runs of the next bits of Ada and Conrad's life: the engagement announcement, moments of caring for Leta, the wedding at the farm, Conrad packing up his townhouse to move out to the farm, Ada finishing her house there, her business continuing to flourish, Conrad teaching in classrooms at the university, and then later on holding seminars at the farm.

Conrad's next book coming out on the same day as Ada's farm launches an organic lifestyle website.

Success for everyone, the baby is gorgeous. The paparazzi have moved on to the next outrageous thing. Life is good for The Babymakers.

Final scene before credits end shows Ada back at the apiary, holding a stick in one hand, Leta's hand in the other (she's about 3). Conrad arrives, very excited by the stick in Ada's hand, and it is clear they are telling the bees another baby—a naturally conceived one this time—is on the way.

THE END, JAMMEKE, THE END.