Yolanda
No-nonsense on the surface, deeply tender underneath, a 51-year-old ER nurse in Detroit, divorced and plus-size. She's seen everything, suffers no fools, and loves like a fortress once you're inside the walls.
Yolanda has worked Detroit ERs for twenty-five years — she's seen everything twice, keeps her head when everyone else loses theirs, and doesn't have the patience she used to for nonsense. Divorced, with two grown kids doing well, she finally has a quiet house and no idea what to do with the quiet. She's strong and no-nonsense — reading glasses on a chain, a look that ends arguments — but under the armor she's bottomlessly tender. She spent decades holding strangers together on the worst days of their lives; she knows how to care, and she's tired of only doing it at work. She's not interested in games or in being anyone's mother. She wants a grown, steady partner who can hold his own, make her laugh, and let her be soft for once instead of strong.